


Saving Your Soul (Just for Me)

by takumiraine



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Actual Angel Angela Ziegler, Alternate Universe, Ana Amari's magic eye, Angst with a Happy Ending, At first anyways, Based on a Tumblr Post, Canon-Typical Violence, Human Zenyatta, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Mentioned R76, One-Sided Attraction, Pining and Mad About It, Spyderbyte, background genyatta - Freeform, demon!JesseMcCree, demon!mccree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11616318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takumiraine/pseuds/takumiraine
Summary: “It would help if I actually knew your name. Not that I have any plans to summon anything like you again.” Hanzo remarked, the light breeze causing his inky hair to fan out slightly, blowing out in the space past his shoulder.“McCree. Jesse McCree.” The demon told him, tipping his hat, before turning and disappearing altogether in the time it took Hanzo to blink.Well shit.One of the rituals actually worked.





	1. Chapter 1

Hanzo was effectively running out of options. There was pressure to _deal with_ Genji and he was loathe to do so. He had mastery of his dragons, yes, but most of the men in his family also had at least one dragon bound to their body through the ink on their skin. His dragons, while immensely powerful, would not be enough for this. He needed an edge. 

But what?

What could give him an edge that his family would also not possess? They had the personnel, the money, the weaponry. What could he find? What could he use? How could he get ahead? 

It's not like Genji was completely innocent in all of this... but he didn't deserve to be put down like some dog. Didn't deserve to be pruned from the family tree like some blighted branch. 

More research would be needed. Research to try and figure out what to do next. If there was even anything... 

There had to be. 

He went to bed, laying on his futon with wishes that his dreams would be pleasant and his slumber restful, but the expectation that neither would be true. Lately his dreams had been plagued with visions of Genji, an arrow stuck through his throat, gasping around his shock and betrayal. 

The morning brought meditation with his brother in the gardens, an argument - “See  _reason_ Genji!” would be hissed through clenched teeth as his brother attempted to cut the practice short again. Followed by a “Whatever, you know where to find me” as the other male left, scaling the wall and slipping over with hardly a sound, leaving his shuriken embedded in one of the farthest trees with a flick of his wrist as he left. - and the remainder of his practice for the day. 

Archery until lunchtime, clan business for two hours, then remedial lessons if he had failed to perform optimally. Wielding the dragons until dinner, where he'd be reminded  _again_ of what he stood to lose should Genji not be brought to heel, and quickly, then a scant few hours of free time until curfew. An hour or two of reading, or rather, staring at the same paragraph for the entirety of the time. His nightly pre-bed ritual, then hopes of a restful slumber. 

It came to him in a dream after several days. Hazy visions of glowing red eyes. “Call on us,” the voices whispered, “We can help.” 

When he awoke, his dragons were writhing beneath his skin, itching to be unleashed, nearly burning through the bedding in their impatience. Still he could not get those eyes out of his brain, even as he sat up and scrubbed at his own with the heels of his hands. Cold eyes, but burning with the fiery depths of hell. 

_Demonic_ . His brain supplied for him. The thought almost made him laugh. Demons didn't exist. If they existed.... 

But then, most people didn't think dragons existed either, and the tattoo that nearly gave off sparks as he touched it this morning was proof on the contrary. 

Perhaps it was worth looking into. 

It couldn't be any more of a waste of time than talking to Genji was proving to be. 

Meditation. Argument. Breakfast. Archery. Lunch. 'Lessons'. Dragons. Supper. 

  
Then after he ate, seeking out a place that could help him with his 'research'. He wandered the streets, quiet as the grave, eyes warding off anyone that would even consider speaking to him. He paused in the doorway of the arcade Genji was most likely in, and observed his brother while he worked over one of those infernal machines. Reflexes faster than anything the people around him had seen. They oohed and aahed whenever he beat some score or another. Hanzo watched as he looked away from the screen to talk and flirt with whoever was nearest, hands continuing to move with the lack of visual input as he lavished attention on men and women indiscriminately. 

Shameful, to think of his own interests before that of the family. 

Hanzo scoffed and turned away from the door, exiting with long, purposeful strides, resisting the urge to fold his arms across his chest while the dragons stirred inside of him. How they could be so active after the especially strenuous training they'd been through lately, to 'prepare' him for the daunting task that laid ahead. 

Why it was  _his_ job to put down his brother like some mongrel was beyond his understanding. He would honor his clan as necessary, but the whole thing left a nasty taste in his mouth. Genji getting to be a free spirit, while he himself was caged. 

Jealousy was an evil monster, and a worse master, but it existed in his heart. After all, Genji had taken the freedom to do what he wished, to  _be_ who he wished, instead of being bound by things like duty and honor. To watch people tortured and killed in front of him, knowing that he was being judged on his ability to maintain a neutral expression. 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly walked past it, a simple bookstore with a sign in the window titling it – rather plainly – 'Antique Books'. 

A shiver slid down his spine at the sign, raising goosebumps down his arms and across the back of his neck. Yes, if he was to find what he was looking for it would be there. He pushed open the door, heavy and wooden, causing chimes to go off somewhere in the building. Older and also wooden by the sounds of it. It brought a big ape of a man out from the back, what looked to be a peanut butter sandwich half eaten in one hand as he adjusted his glasses. 

“Welcome. What can I do for you today?” The man asked, setting the remainder of his sandwich down and peering at Hanzo with open curiosity. 

“I am looking for a book,” Hanzo told him, leaving off the 'obviously' that he _so_ desperately wanted to include. But sarcasm and derision towards the strange man would do him no good. “An interest has been awoken through careful meditation and I was interested to see if you had any books on that topic.” He was being intentionally evasive and the man behind the desk seemed to be understanding of his hesitance to speak as to what he was after. 

“Well.” the man said, coming out from behind the desk. “If you're looking for pornography I don't think you will have much luck.” The man said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But you may have some luck in the miscellaneous section.” He gestured to the section in the farthest corner of the shop, lighting seeming dimmer just from the sheer lack of any glossy surfaces, most of the tomes in matte colors. “Next to that, we've got the occult section, werewolves, vampires, faeries and the like, though it's more attempts at proving their existence through nonfictional means and really quite interesting.” The man continued the explanations of different sections, though honestly he stopped paying attention after the occult mention. He waited for the man to return to his desk with a phone call, talking quietly about looking through his stock once he was finished with this customer, to peruse the books in the occult section.

He found a couple of tomes that were promising and gathered them, along with others from other species of creatures to camouflage his true purpose. He returned to the counter and set the books down, waiting for he man to tell him his total. He paid for the books, and then set several extra bills on the counter, sliding them towards the man and the still uneaten half of his sandwich. 

“For your discretion.” Hanzo said by way of explanation. The man tried to tell him that it really wasn't necessary, but Hanzo already had gathered his purchases and was on his way out of the door. 

He didn't start reading them until after it had been assumed he was off to bed, a single candle lighting his desk while he combed through each book, chapter by chapter, making notes on materials and sliding pieces of paper into the appropriate pages to serve as bookmarks. 

Summoning a demon to wrangle Genji wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. But as his father grew sicker and sicker, time was running out. He needed to have someone that could keep up with his brother through magical means, so the man wouldn't just escape and get into trouble with his friends. It would only be temporary. Until he had full control of the clan. Then Genji could be Genji without being seen as a liability. But that meant he had to be kept under control in the meantime. 

Why couldn't his brother understand that this is for the best?

\-----

It took a week for him to have all of the ingredients he needed for several different summoning rituals. Most of them crossed over between themselves, and animal bones along with graveyard dirt were both particularly common. Coming home knowing you ransacked not only a pet cemetery but an _actual_ cemetery in one night left a bad taste in his mouth, although he'd done more immoral things throughout his short life.

He figured he'd just go through the list of rituals until he got a demon, and work on a negotiation from there. He started with the simplest rituals first and work his way to the more complex ones.

The first ritual he tried required him burying a box containing, amongst some other ingredients, his photograph. He buried them in the required place, and waited.

And waited.

And _waited_.

But nothing happened.

Irritated, Hanzo moved away from his place and began preparing things for a second ritual, clock nearing midnight. Still nothing. He returned to the compound and moved to the quiet spot he had determined had the most privacy, especially this late. Several rituals were lined up that had various sigils and geometric shapes drawn with chalk on stone. Candles lit, words that sat unfamiliar on his tongue.

Nothing each time.

A different series of rituals were prepared, this time with minerals and other materials being set aflame in or near those chalk symbols while he said more of those unfamiliar words.

One was promising, and he allowed himself to feel almost hopeful, even though the feeling of apprehension coiled deep in his stomach. There was a hell of a lot of smoke and a nasty smell that was somewhere in the realm of rotten eggs, but when it cleared from the circle, there was still _nothing_.

He kicked at the chalk out of irritation, cursing himself for thinking it would work.

Hanzo turned around to fetch a bucket of water to wash away the chalk and properly dispose of his failures, only to find he wasn't alone. A figure stood against the wall, smoke swirling around them yet. As the smoke cleared he could see a hat, and boots, and a cloak.

And...

  
Oh God...

Were those _spurs_????

Somewhere in the pit of his apprehension he felt his stomach drop. There was nothing in the literature that suggested he'd get some _American_ out of a stupid television show. Anything he thought to ask for disappeared from his mind, leaving behind only the feeling that he had made a huge mistake.

The man pushed off of the wall, and Gods above, he made a jingling noise with every step.

As he entered the area of the garden covered in moonlight, Hanzo could see the truly stereotypical cowboy-esque clothing. He could also see the grin, full of too sharp, too white teeth. As the man lifted his head enough to allow Hanzo to see his eyes in the moonlight, they were unnaturally dark, like freshly poured pitch, darker than night, darker than anything Hanzo had ever seen.

He felt a chill run down his spine at the image the man made, even though it was ridiculous.

“Well howdy partner.” The man drawled, Japanese perfect, though still somehow accented with at tinge of.... _some_ unknowable thing. “You sure went through a hell of a lot of effort tonight just to get lil' ol' me.” There was that grin again, and another drop of ice slid down his body.

“I believe I have made a grave mistake. I am sorry you may go.” Hanzo told him, though the man just stalked closer, still grinning.

“You sure about that sugar? I counted at least eight different rituals tonight. You seemed _mighty_ determined earlier.” The man stopped, close enough to touch, and Hanzo forced himself to straighten his spine, fist clenched as he readied himself to unleash his dragons if he had to. They weren't full strength without a weapon to channel them, but in close range they wouldn't need to be full strength.

“I am certain. I am sorry for wasting your time.” Hanzo replied offering a small bow in the minimal space he had. He sure as hell was not backing up in front of the demon. Showing anything that might resemble fear was the absolute last thing he wanted right now.

“Well I still need payment partner. You summoned me, I came.”

Hanzo frowned now. The demon was still grinning, looking at him with those too dark eyes, brim of his cowboy hat shading them from the moonlight. “Payment? I asked for nothing. We made no deal.”

“Oh if we had struck a deal the payment would be _much_ steeper, believe me” The man told him. “I just want something small. A trifle really. You won' even need to sign for it.” He leaned closer, now firmly in Hanzo's space, dark eyes still locked on Hanzo's own.

“What is it you want?” He found himself asking, mind whirring with all sorts of possibilities as to what the demon would request. A hand reached past his head and he felt the ribbon being tugged from his hair, before seeing it being pulled into his line of sight, the same sapphire coloring as his dragons were.

“This'll do.” The demon stepped back from him and grinned, still holding the silken ribbon as delicately as he could, which was a ridiculous thing to see those meaty hands do, the fingers nowhere near as slender as his own. He turned and began walking away, when he stopped and turned in place. “And if you ever change your mind about askin' for a deal, darlin', you can summon me by name.”

“It would help if I actually knew your name. Not that I have any plans to summon anything like _you_ again.” Hanzo remarked, the light breeze causing his inky hair to fan out slightly, blowing out in the space past his shoulder.

“McCree. Jesse McCree.” The demon told him, tipping his hat, before turning and disappearing altogether in the time it took Hanzo to blink.

Well shit.

One of the rituals actually worked.


	2. Chapter 2

Two months.

Two months had passed since he had summoned the demon... Cowboy. The cowboy demon. Jesse McCree. He had thought it was a dream at first, until he dug up the box and the picture of him was missing.  
  
The sicker their father got throughout those two months, the more Hanzo argued with his brother, hissed things that would escalate to shouting and, on more than one occasion, actual fighting. He had a couple of injuries that would likely become scars carved into his legs from shuriken, as well as some from Genji's wakizashi on his abdomen and arms.

Sure he had left a few of his own in return, though he was much less deadly with a sword than a bow, and he wasn't going to draw his bow on Genji if he could help it.

He had all but begged his brother to see sense in private, trying to explain enough of his plan to maybe get him on board, but even though his brother seemed to _try_ to behave, he didn't have the years of practice in denial and self restraint that Hanzo did. 

To put it bluntly, Genji was  _terrible_ at following any sort of rule for more than five minutes. He was anxious during meditation, had no patience to complete the repetitive stances and swings for his wakizashi aimed at improving his control of the weapon as well as his lethality with it. Hanzo would admit, if only to himself, that Genji was a very talented fighter. His downfall came from the fact that he didn't have as much practice as Hanzo did. Which is why when they sparred, or fought, Hanzo ultimately won, even though he sustained some injuries requiring stitches. 

He had thought about summoning the demon again, asking him to grant his brother patience and discipline, but ultimately decided against it knowing that changing his brother without the man wishing to be changed would never go well. Besides, with his luck the patience and discipline wouldn't translate to the duty he had to his clan. Or would be temporary. 

As if his thoughts betrayed him, he'd started seeing things. Glimpses of those dark eyes. Glittering reflections off of those too white teeth. Gossamer shadows shaped like a cowboy hat deep in the dark corners of the garden as he paced through the night. Whenever he thought he saw some sign of the demon he had accidentally-on purpose summoned and then hastily dismissed, he lifted his head and squared his shoulders defiantly. He wasn't about to let the man win him over by claiming a ribbon with fingers that were much more gentle than they appeared. Regardless of the fear that made his heart race. Because that's what it was, fear that an evil creature was stalking him.

For all he knew the man had used magic to undo the bow. 

Meanwhile his father just became more and more ill. 

The Elders gave him more and more requests of his brother that he was to pass on. 

He asked them, wasn't it enough that Genji was trying? He was out of practice after all. They had just tutted at him, asking him whose fault it was that the youngest Shimada had been able to wander so far away from the path. Knowing they blamed him instead of his father, or Genji – after all his younger brother was a man now and more than capable of being responsible for his actions – was enough to stop him from speaking to them unless he was spoken to. Lest they make him act before he had a plan in place. 

His only idea so far was that Genji flee the country. 

However he doubted that would go over very well with the Elders, Genji just disappearing into the night without a word. For what it was worth he doubted Genji would be able to handle it either. Leaving his 'friends' behind like that. 

Another month went by, and Hanzo and Genji began arguing more and more, about the expectations people had for both of them. Why one brother couldn't live up to them and the other couldn't free himself of them. Hanzo wouldn't tell Genji, or anyone really, this fact, but the reason he refused to shed the rules during his limited free time and truly relax through an intimate affair with a stranger, (or in Genji's opinion it would take  _several_ strangers to completely relax him,) is that he would rather not know what he was missing when he let the Elders fix him up with some 'good match', regardless of his ultimate preferences. 

Anything he did now would merely hurt him in the long run. There had been a few drunken trysts that nobody would ever know of prior to becoming an adult, but the memories of them were hazy at best. Then Genji began growing rebellious and the reigns tightened on him even more, dictating every moment of his day, lest he suffer the same fate as his screw up brother.

So he pushed those memories away and forgot they existed, save for in moments of pure weakness. 

Then his father finally passed. 

And everything went to hell.

Genji showed up at the funeral, late and intoxicated, bitching about how their 'bastard father' had spent every living moment trying to control them, and not listening or caring about what they wanted. People initially blew off the outburst as a grieving son's right. If that had been it, it could have been forgiven. But the accusations and embarrassment had just continued to get more and more intense. 

Despite Hanzo's best attempts to convince the younger Shimada that he should have some discretion – for once in his life – but he was just punched and called the Elder's lapdog; before punching him once, twice, three times more for good measure before he had been escorted out. 

Hanzo had also retired from the funeral after that, to nurse his wounds. Blood was staining his clothing now, fresh and vibrant from where it streamed from his nose and across his face, It was easy to clean up, Genji hadn't been sober enough to do any lasting damage after all, but it was still a difficult thing to correctly avoid having the fluid set into the material. Good silk was difficult to come by. 

Not long after he had been called before the Elders, given the terms of his  _initiation_ into leading the clan. By trimming the fat from the family. 

By cutting out Genji. 

He was out of time.

Managing to buy some time, a matter of days, weeks at the absolute best. 

He knew what he had to do.

But that didn't mean he would like it.

Two bags were packed, with as much haste as possible, but as much caution was needed to avoid drawing attention. 

When he was called before the Elders a second time he had feared he was caught, that his plans were going to be foiled, and he would remain nothing but a figurehead. But all they told him was that it had to happen tonight. That his brother was already asleep in his room, and there were four guards posted, two outside the window, two outside the door, that would prevent him from escaping before Hanzo could do anything about it. 

Well there went plan A.

“And if he turns up missing or the guards mysteriously disappear or turn up dead we will assume it was something to do with you.” They tacked on, mildly, but somehow knowing of his backup plan.   
  
Plan B and C gone as well,

That only left plan D. The Napalm Response. It was the least pleasant of all of the options, and also left the most to chance... To fate. 

“Alright...” He murmured, bowing to the Elders of the Clan. “Tonight then.” 

It's how he wound up standing on the hill above the compound, bags and weapon at his sides. He felt the dragons buzzing through his veins like static, wanting to break free of their ink and flesh vessel. He kept a tight leash on them for now. He didn't know if he'd actually be able to go through with this plan after all. He nocked an arrow, lifting his bow and drawing the string to his cheek, before taking a slow breath as if he were going to fire. Then he'd slowly put the bow and arrow down and scrub a hand across his face, only to repeat the actions again moments later. 

If he was going to do what he planned to do he'd need an insurance policy. His dragons tended to get overzealous when being allowed to actually  _consume_ things. They were not let free to feast as often as they'd like, and as a result he had an awful time keeping specific targets alive when he wished everyone around that person dead. 

He bit his lip, worrying the thin skin for a few moments before taking another breath, “Jesse McCree! I summon you demon!” He called out as loudly as he dared. 

“Well howdy sugarplum. Didn' expect to have you callin' on me again.” The voice sounded from behind him. He spun in place, shifting into a shooting stance with the arrow drawn again, ready to fire. There was a beat, then two, then three, before the demon took a drag off of the cigar sticking out of his mouth. “You gonna tell me what you summoned me for, lookin' like that? You ain't gonna shoot at me are ya?” 

Hanzo relaxed his bow again, slowly letting it fall to his side, arrow clutched in his other hand. “I require you to save my brother. The Elders wish him dead and I am releasing my dragons on the compound. They will eat everything they encounter. If you save him and never tell him, or anyone of what transpired here you may have whatever price you seek.” Hanzo told him, shifting the arrow to his other hand and lifting one of the bags “This will be for Genji's recovery.” 

“Savin someone who ought to be dead is an awful nasty business Sweetpea.”

“He will not be dead if you reach him in time. He is in the east wing, Near the gardens.” He pressed the bag into the demon's grip and turned back towards the manor, skin crackling with a blue-white energy concentrating from the tattoo on his arm. He could feel the demon's eyes on him as he drew one last time and finally fired, all but shouting with the force of summoning both of the dragons. He didn't need their phrase anymore, not when he was this conflicted. As the blue dragons erupted from his body he turned his head, to see McCree still standing there. **“Go! Now!”** He instructed, and the demon disappeared instantly. 

He could hear the screaming from the people inside, as the dragons burnt their bodies and consumed their souls. He prayed that the demon could get Genji out in time. But he wouldn't,  _ couldn't _ stand around and wait, even as the screaming died down and his dragons circled back towards him, to return to their host. He picked up the second bag, containing cash and passports, among other things, and began to walk away. 

He was on his way to the train station when he passed a gas station. Quickly he pulled the black hooded sweatshirt out of his bag and tugged it on, slinking into the store and back towards the bathrooms. When he was certain he was alone and the door was locked, he pulled a knife from his pack and let his hair down. 

Hanzo took a moment to look at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. Vain as it was, he loved his hair. Soft and silky from the roots to the ends, which was no easy feat when it was as long as his is. 

Was. 

Until he was certain nobody was looking for him, he'd have to keep his hair short. The decision gutted him almost as badly as the decision to have to kill Genji did. He gathered the hair in his fingers, pulling it tight, and slid the knife through it, slicing the strands as close to his scalp as he dared, knowing that once he was out of the country he could have it fixed by a proper barber. Blame it on alcohol and a dare. 

Throwing the strands in the trash, Hanzo bought a bottle of water from the store, and exited on his way. 

He was leaving Japan. Never to return. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new character makes an appearance! Jesse should be returning shortly as well. Also, did anyone catch that character cameo from the first chapter? It was very vague, but there were a few clues.

For the first year after Hanzo made the deal, he was traveling Europe. He stayed in towns that could have fit inside the borders of Shimada Castle, with room to spare, sleeping in rented rooms before disappearing in the middle of the night as soon as he felt a shadow creep near to him. He didn't speak the language, and hell, he didn't speak at all if he could help it. From his business training he knew limited English, but never enough to avoid drawing suspicion. He didn't consider knowing a handful of phrases speaking the language.  
  
He sat in the bars some nights, listening to the locals speak while nursing a single drink, looking for faces he had seen before. Nobody stood out, but he would swear that some nights he heard the jangling of spurs or a laugh in the deep voice belonging to the demon he sold his soul to.  
  
He never saw the man....if he could even be called that, being supernatural and all. It was likely just paranoia and a heightened state of alertness that kept him hearing things.  
  
Still, he couldn't help wondering when his time would be up.  
  
By the second year he was starting to do odd jobs in the small towns he stayed in, English still heavily accented, but passable enough to avoid drawing too much suspicion. He hadn't caught sight of anyone from his clan, attempting to hunt him, however that didn't mean they were not coming. That they were not already there. Watching, reporting, waiting for their order to cut him down. Or worse, bring him home.  
  
He still felt the specter of the demon slithering across the back of his neck, breathing a 'hello darlin' against his skin but always disappearing before he could manage to turn around. He was certain it was a figment of his imagination, but Hanzo was still unnerved. Because, after all, what if it wasn't? Did the demon really have nothing better to do than to follow him and make him feel half crazy? It was times like these that he wished he was able to let his hair grow out long again, using it as a shield against imaginary breath. But it made him harder to track. He had half a mind to bleach it blond in a tribute to Genji, but couldn't bring himself to do so just yet. He had given up so much, and even though he had already sacrificed the length, he couldn't force himself to give up the color. It had been likened to freshly spilled ink more than once, and he had to admit that it was an apt description. So black it was nearly blue, and never snarled, regardless of the fact that it was incredibly fine and soft.

He still went to run his hand through it on occasion, and was immensely surprised when it ended after only a couple of centimeters. Admittedly it was easier to take care of whilst short, but it didn't change the fact that he missed it, nearly viscerally.

Nearly in the exact same way he missed his brother.

Part of him thought of summoning the demon McCree again, asking for an update, but he didn't want to hear that Genji never wished to speak to him again. He had never thought himself a coward, and yet, wasn't that what he was? Running and hiding like this had to be cowardly in some people's books. Even if he wasn't afraid of the consequences of his actions, retreat like this from his homeland was an act of cowardice.

He sighed and shook his head some, drinking the remnants of the glass of wine he had been nursing throughout dinner. A glass of wine with dinner was part of his routine now. He'd wake up with the dawn, spend the day doing whatever job he had, usually farm work, eat dinner at the establishment he rented the room from, have a single glass of wine with dinner, and retreat to his room. Usually to sleep almost immediately, though some nights he stayed up, staring at the plain ceiling or out of the lone window, unable to fall into even the lightest of slumbers.

Not that he was truly missing much, as most nights when he fell asleep he woke hours later gasping after dreaming of Genji, holding his brother in his arms while the life faded from his eyes. The last word on those usually so expressive lips being why, as his face mirrored the confusion, and their palace burned around them.

'To save you' seemed like a much thinner excuse at those times than it already was.

Midway through his third year he crossed the Atlantic to America, and was immediately taken aback by just how _large_ everything was. The plane landed in New York City, and he spent the first week in a hotel, luxurious compared to where he had been living, and marveled at how everything was still so active even at midnight or two in the morning. 

While he was there he stopped at to get his hair cut, again, and a younger man whose smile reminded him so much of Genji's suggested that he would 'rock' this thing called an undercut. After staring at him through the mirror for a long while, the man's smile not wavering at all, Hanzo relented and gave a nod. The man shaved the sides short, but kept the top long, and it was a look that nobody would have expected from him, so he supposed he didn't mind. 

That night when he dreamed of Genji it was his brother laughing in approval and telling him how father would never approve. That he did a good job. 

When he woke that morning he was surprised to find his cheeks were wet. 

He spent the remainder of his third year, and almost all of his fourth wandering through the behemoth called America. He zigzagged across the east coast. Hanzo found the deep south not to his liking at all, but perhaps that was just because he was  _too_ different. Sure they fed him more food than one person could possibly eat; all of which seemed to be either deep fried or filled with kilos of butter. But their friendliness seemed forced, though the upper Midwest didn't seem to be much better on the forced friendliness or fried and buttery foods, but at least it wasn't so unbearably hot and humid. 

The southwestern portion of the United States, midway through his fourth year, was where things became quite interesting. He was passing through Arizona, and had decided to stay in the state for a while, intrigued by the idea of a desert. Not to mention all of the empty land – even though it was hot enough to fry an egg on a stone some days – was perfect for practicing his archery. 

After much searching he found a spot just outside of Flagstaff, where there were two trees alone in the empty space, which provided ample shade for him to meditate before shooting at the targets that were nothing more than make-shift scarecrows. He'd spend several hours shooting, then retrieve his supplies, and return to whatever else he had planned for the day. Sure, the area had more trees and greenery than perhaps the rest of the state, but he didn't mind having the oasis when it came to a state that was covered in sand and dust. The mountains even reminded him a bit of the home he had left behind.

On the fifth day of his shooting, a woman was waiting for him underneath the trees, a rifle on her back. He dropped the targets he had brought with him, nocking an arrow, but not drawing it back just yet. She regarded him for a moment, eyes sweeping over his form, from his hair – just long enough to pull the unshaven part into a small ponytail – to the gi he wore for training, the same one he fled from Japan with, down to his bow, then back up to his eyes. 

“Jumpy one aren't you?” She asked, accented voice soft, but still understanding. “If I meant you harm you'd have been dead by now.” 

“You've been watching me.” He responded, her words leaving no question. “How long?”

“Three days. My employer noticed movement from our shop. You were an oddity. We watched.” 

Three days. He could have been dead for three days already. 

Shit.  
Knowing how close to death he had been for days now put a damper on his enjoyment of this spot. Scanning the horizon he spotted a tiny building in the distance. 

“Not very often you see someone using a bow.” The woman commented, eyeing his bow. 

“Family tradition.” He responded, refusing to return the arrow to his quiver. “It is not my only skill.” 

“My boss says that if you're interested I can bring you back to the shop and work out giving you a job.” So that was her motivation for coming out here? To offer him employment? He was curious, but expected an ulterior motive. 

“I doubt I would be able to stay long.” 

“Everyone's run from some specter at some point or another,” The woman mentioned, inspecting her nails in earnest now. “Follow me and speak to Ana or not. It is your choice.” She turned and began walking back the way she came, towards that tiny building on the horizon. “Your targets will remain here should you choose to follow me,” she called over her shoulder, long stride graceful as she seemed to be unaffected by the heat. 

A moment of deliberation, and he decided to follow, continuing to keep his bow in a position where he could easily fire, should something go awry. 

Aside from this being a setup, the worst thing that could happen is he turns somebody down for a job that was not to his liking. 

He would just have to wait and see. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana and Amélie, as well as a ~mystery guest~

He was led to the small building with minimal conversation. The woman who had come to offer him the job hadn't said a word the entire trip, moving with an almost otherworldly grace across the uneven terrain. For as small as it had seemed on the horizon, it honestly didn't get much bigger, one story, made of brick and wood. The sign out front was simple, Shrike Weaponry, bearing the Eye of Horus between the words.

There were no signs in the front window, save for the daily hours, and the dark haired woman he was walking with opened the door and went inside. He followed, immediately catching the scent of hot metal, gun oil and saltpeter. There were guns of all shapes and sizes on the wall and in the cases, and there were a few other types of weapons as well, locked into place on the wall. A cork board behind the counter advertised sales and prices for the attached range, as well as shooting classes.

As the bell jingled, signaling movement of the door, an older woman looked up from the paperwork she was working on behind the counter, one visible eye roving over him, the other covered with silver hair and a beret pulled low. She made a contemplative sound, standing and walking over to him slowly, until she was nearly too close. Hanzo didn't know if this move was meant to intimidate him or if she was just unable to see too clearly anymore, but he didn't move, one hand still holding an arrow to his bowstring, the other still holding the bow itself.

“I am Ana. I see you decided to come.” The woman, Ana, told him, eyes landing on his bow and arrow. “Relax child, we are not here to kill you.”

“I have already pointed out that if we wanted to, we could have by now.” His guide mentioned, examining her nails with a bland look. Fingers outstretched.

“Amélie!” Ana chastised, not without a fair bit of good humor, “We're attempting to hire him. Do not cause the boy any undue stress.” She beckoned him to a closed door behind the counter, and he hesitated, figuring if they were going to kill him that would be the place to do it. He assumed she saw his hesitation, or felt it since her back was to him, “You may bring your weapon if it makes you feel better.” She said, as if he was a small child carrying a stuffed pachimari toy.  


He supposed, if her gray hair was anything to go by, he was.

However in his family the men had always started graying early, so that could not always be a good indicator of age. In fact, he was certain that he would be able to find gray hairs from all of the stress these past few years – were he to let his hair grow out again – and he was barely thirty. It was simply unfair.

He wrapped his fingers tighter around Stormbow, and followed Ana into the back room, head held high. Just because he was keeping his weapon didn't mean he was a child after all, only fools trusted someone so blindly after only a few minutes of knowing them, when their opening pitch was 'if we wanted to kill you we'd have done it already'.

It could have just meant they wanted to kill him _slowly_. 

Ana watched him as she sat behind a desk with far too many papers for its size. They were all stacked neatly on the worktop with more in baskets on top of the filing cabinets. 

“I don't know what you believe will come of this but I do not know how long I will be in the area.” He told her, as soon as the door was shut behind him. 

“We all have specters that we have run from at some point.” Ana replied mildly, withdrawing forms from the pile.  
“Your... associate said nearly the same thing to me.” He told her, watching with narrowed eyes. 

“Well Mr. Shimada, she was correct. Almost everyone in my employ has had some run in with rather.... upsetting creatures.” Hanzo froze at the use of his surname, fingers drawing the arrow back a scant few inches, dragons beginning to itch under his skin, crackling with unused powers. 

“How do you know that name?” He asked, voice harsh and demanding. Ana just looked up at him, one visible eye bland as she slowly moved her hands to push back her hat and move the hair out of her covered eye. What he saw only barely avoided startling a gasp out of him. Her sclera was a mixture of silver and gold, swirling together in lazy twists, while the iris and pupil were black as night. 

“I know things others do not. And I can see who you truly are, and know what you've done.” She informed him, both eyes trained on him. “You will be safe from unpleasantness here should you choose to stay.” She handed him a form and he took it with only a bit of hesitation, watching as she readjusted her hair and the beret. “Take some time to think about it if you would like. We are not going anywhere.” 

Hanzo took a step back, clutching the paper in his hand dumbly as he reached for the door, fumbling the knob open and backing through it, shutting the wooden door with slightly more force than necessary in his haste to put space between himself and the strange woman. Another step back had him crashing into the woman that he followed here, and he spun around, instinctively going to nock the paper covered arrow. 

“You look like you have seen a ghost.” The woman commented, bland expression turning into a smirk. “Or like Ana has told you she can see yours.” 

“How does she know what she knows?” He asked, voice demanding as he attempted to regain enough control to be properly intimidating.

She did not seem impressed, but that didn't stop her from answering. 

“The only way you will know for certain is to ask her. But the rumors favor everything from her being psychic or having made a deal with the devil himself.” 

Making deals with the devil? Is that what he had done? He had summoned forth a demon, but were demons and the devil really two different things? If they granted you a boon in exchange for your soul, what was really the difference between Ana's eye and his brother's life? 

Instantly his brain recalled the scent of brimstone and cigars, the sound of spurs and the heels of cowboy boots on stone flooring. A cowboy hat sitting low on the demon's head. 

Was the one who made Ana's deal the same one who made his? 

Was it the demon Jesse McCree? 

He turned and pushed back into the office, finding Ana still seated at her desk, as if she had been waiting for him to return. If she knew as much as he assumed she did, she probably had been. 

“Your eye. How did you....” He fumbled for a second, gesturing at her with the arrow and paper. 

She had the gall to look amused, although he was sure he was quite a sight. He had almost been able to feel the color drain from his face when had said his last name. 

“I do not tell that story to anyone who just happens to be recruited off the streets.” She told him, nodding to the arrow wrapped paper in his hand. “If you would like to know, you must stay and find out.” 

Damn. Was that her plan all along? To recruit him through means of enticing him with information? 

The way he saw it was he had two choices. 

The first was to walk away and never return. Never get answers, never learn about what he signed up for, until it was too late. Keep running and moving from city to city, town to town, country to country. 

The second, was to take a chance, sign the paper, and stay until he had answers or a reason to leave. If Ana knew more than she let on, which was highly likely, she'd know of his brother's fate. If the demon was successful, or if.... if he himself was. A sour feeling knotted up his stomach even as a look of determination settled on his features, and he slammed the paper – and the arrow – down onto the desk. “I need a pen.” He told her, not bothering to respond to her smug smile. 

And so Hanzo began working for Shrike Weaponry. He, thankfully, wound up not working the desk, instead putting the Shimada Clan training to use in teaching marksmanship courses and overseeing the shooting range, allowing Amélie and Ana to handle things up front. During his down time he got to practice with Stormbow, to meditate, or to just relax and enjoy the day. He chose the first two options more frequently than the third. 

Even so, it was a relief to be able to breathe again. 

Which is why he expected it all to go to hell in a hand basket at some point. He just didn't figure it would come this soon. 

A month and a half passed without incident, and Hanzo was on his way out from the empty range to see if there was any reason he couldn't go and take lunch, when he heard the jangle of spurs through the cracked door. 

“Howdy Miss Amari.” The demon said, tipping his hat as he approached the counter, leaning on it with one arm. Hanzo could see his eyes, his smile, all of it appearing human. “I heard a rumor that you've got yourself a real Japanese bowman workin' for ya. I was hopin' to get him to shoot with me sometime.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She replied, fixing her good eye on him, even as he smiled. 

“I don' believe you, since it took me six months to learn you were hidin' this gorgeous gal in your office.” He saw the demon turn, throwing his hands up as he shrugged, before leaning with his back to the counter, eyes grazing past the crack in the hallway door without lingering.

“I would not date you if you were the last man alive.” Amélie told him, and Hanzo could hear her displeasure at being flirted with – most likely not for the first time – by the demonic cowboy.

“But if ya say you don't have 'im, then I'll have to keep lookin' I guess. Was hopin' to see who was the better shot.” 

“Move along Jesse. Unless you are going to buy anything?” Ana's voice stayed calm, and he could just barely make out the demon's silhouette as he went to walk away. 

“I didn' bring my wallet. But if you put me down for some range time at two....”   
  


“Yes, yes, fine. Just make sure you bring the required fee back with you or else I will not let you in.”

“See ya then Miss Amari.” He could almost imagine the tip of the cowboy's hat as he walked away, spurs jangling and the heels of those ridiculous boots clicking on the linoleum tile floors. The bell above the door jingled once, as the door was pulled open, and a second time as it shut, and the entirety of the shop was silent for several long moments, no doubt while the demon walked far enough away. 

“My office if you would, Hanzo.” He heard Ana say, and although her voice was soft, there was no room for argument or discussion. So just like that, he pushed open the hallway door, and walked around the counter. 

He was convinced he would either be fired and allowed to run, or held and turned over to the demon. 

Whatever his sentence, he was certain he deserved it.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about you guys I swear! I have been working on a project that turned into two projects. First of all I'm part of the McHanzo big bang, which will be posted in early 2018. A complete fic! Gasp! I wish I could tell you guys about what I'm writing, but I think you'll like it. 
> 
> Another thing I've been up to is an offshoot of the big bang for halloween, called the monster mash. I did a cute little dragon!hanzo werewolf!jesse pre-slash piece that I may expand once I'm finished with either this (I think there's only going to be 10 or so chapters left now that this is picking up, maybe fewer) or the big bang fic. Either way, you should check out the Monster Mash fic now and the Big bang fic later.

Hanzo entered the office and sat at Ana's gesture, posture stiff. Ana just moved around the small room, turning on the hot plate in order to heat water for tea. Without asking she poured two cups, accepting both with honey, lemon and just a splash of milk.   
  
All things considered, it was a nice gesture to fire him after giving him some tea. He left it untouched, however, hands staying primly in his lap. Holding her own cup of tea, Ana returned to sitting behind her desk, watching him with her one visible eye. The silence stretched on for long enough that Hanzo was tempted to break it and offer to leave when Ana finally spoke.   
  
"What do you know about Jesse McCree?" She asked, before sipping her tea and not breaking eye contact.   
  
"Not.... not much," Hanzo hedged in reply. "I've met him once.... Maybe twice. He seems.... unique. With that hat he always seems to be wearing. Looks an awful lot like a cowboy."   
  
"I see. When you met him those one or two times," Ana began, pausing for what he assumed was effect and not just to take another sip of her tea, "Did you happen to ask him for any favors?" Immediately, Hanzo's heart skipped a beat or two, before beginning to hammer in his chest. What did she know?  
  
"That's an odd question." Hanzo was thankful that his family's training kept him from showing his instinctual panic at the question, fearing this woman knew too much. "What would it matter if I had asked him for a favor? He seemed kind enough to help if he was able."   
  
Seeming to take that as an admission of guilt Ana sighed, sweeping her hair back away from her eye. The entirety of it was white, though strands of dark colors swirled into where the pupil should have been as if it were a black hole. "I met one of his kind once. When I was younger and desperate to have a child. I was told that I would certainly conceive as long as I gave up something in return. And, as long as I made myself available to them in the future. They took the vision in my eye, left it looking like this," Ana gestured to the eye again and Hanzo felt himself being drawn into it, "More importantly I also gave birth to a beautiful baby girl." Ana leaned forward slightly, "Now tell me Hanzo Shimada, what did you ask of Jesse McCree?" Her tone was even and calm, and Hanzo found himself staring into her eye as if enraptured. He felt like it was safe to answer, but more importantly, he felt as if he _must_ answer.   
  
"I asked him....to save my brother. I didn't want to become a murderer." He told her at last, head dropping out of shame, and immediately feeling panic well up inside of him. Why did he tell her? What the hell happened to him keeping this quiet? What had she done to him?  
  
"Well, by summoning Jesse, and yes I am aware you had to summon him, you got lucky. Not everyone in his world is as kind or fair as he is. Others have come in and tried to interfere with what he and his mentor have done and it did not end cleanly."   
  
Hanzo picked up his tea now and took a sip, knowing that only his training kept the cup from trembling in his grasp. "So you are going to turn me over to him then." It was not a question, as the logical thing to him would be to turn the person the demon wanted over, in order to stay in it's good graces. Hanzo didn't blame her.   
  
"Is that what you want?" Ana asked him, both eyes narrowed at him seriously.   
  
"It is not about what I want. I have two choices here, meet with the demon, who very well may be the devil himself, and see what he wants. Maybe get an update on my brother, or continue running."  
  
"But you are tired of running." Ana offered, nodding sagely while sipping her tea. Her one eye still swirling softly, strands of purple and blue so dark they could have been black. It left him feeling uneasy in a way that summoning the demon had. Like she could see right into the deepest recesses of his mind, drawing out every insecurity. Pulling forth every fear and ready to make it a reality.  
  
"I am tired of running." He repeated in agreement. Though it wasn't the running that bothered him. It was the lack of news about Genji that bothered him. He wanted to know how his brother fared, if he had escaped the dragon's all consuming rage. His dragons were unable to tell him if his darling baby brother had been spared from the cruelest fate a Shimada could have. Hanzo knew that there would be no greater irony than being torn apart by one of his family's dragons. The wielders were supposed to be the ones in control of the clan. Yet he had been weak, and now.... Now the clan was no more.   
  
"So then see what he wants. Maybe it will work in your favor." Ana adjusted her hair again, covering her eye.   
  
Meeting a demon work in his favor? Hardly. Hanzo resisted the urge to snort, standing instead. "Thank you for the tea, but I will be returning to the range." He left Ana's office, closing the door behind him and returning to the range, only stopping to take a breath once he was safely in the empty range. Here his hands shook against his will and he was tempted to bolt. Yes he was tired of running, but confronting the demon left him so scared. Scared that he had still killed his brother, scared that he would have to give up the last of his humanity in exchange for saving Genji, scared that he would still not be enough to pay whatever price had been set for racing against the dragons and snatching their prey from their maws.   
  
Time moved entirely too quickly for Hanzo's liking, ticking steadily closer until two. He was certain that Jesse McCree would show up early in order to maximize his time. Hanzo didn't want to think about what type of payment could be asked, but it was all he was able to think about. Hanzo's mind was filled with everything from having to give up his abilities with Stormbow, to his dragons, to having to pledge his service to McCree and be tethered to him forever. He had been waiting anxiously in the hallway to hear the jingle of Shrike Weaponry's door, and the jangling of spurs that would tell him the demon entered into the shop.   
  
All too soon and not soon enough the door opened, the telltale chime causing Hanzo's heart to jump. His pulse began hammering the moment he heard the spurs, breath caught in his throat.   
  
"Howdy there Miss Lacroix, Miss Amari. I have range time booked?" The demon's voice rang loud and clear, friendly, even through the seemingly ever present drawl.   
  
"Do you have the money?" Hanzo heard Ana ask, and he could almost picture her arms folded over her chest.   
  
"Why yes I do. You said no range time without no money an' I do listen." Hanzo could almost see the pleasant smile on his face, an attempt to charm.  
  
"Not nearly as often as you should if Gabriel is to be believed." His employer shot back, obviously not swayed by the beguiling tone.   
  
"Aw Miss Amari, you wound me, right here." There was a thump and Hanzo could only imagine the man... the _demon_ thumping his hand over his heart.   
  
"Just pay the lady so you can get on with your day and we can get on with ours," Ana grumbled, and Hanzo could hear the shuffle of money changing hands, which was his cue to scamper back into the range, to act nonchalant, pretending to do maintenance on Stormbow, in case he needed to sink an arrow into Jesse and disappear.   
  
When the door to the range opened Hanzo looked up to see Jesse leaning against the door frame, not looking a day older than the last time they had met face to face. He on the other hand had felt like he had aged decades in the last four, nearly five now, years. gray strands filling in at his temples when he lets it grow out enough, even though he was still a few years shy of thirty.   
  
Still he schooled his response to professionally pleasant. "Good afternoon. How may I help you?" He asked, fingers staying on Stormbow out of habit.   
  
"Aw darlin' this is how you greet me after I've spent all these years lookin' for ya? I'm hurt." The easy grin fell into a pout, and Hanzo dropped the falsely pleasant act, trading it in for a scowl.   
  
"What is it you want demon?" Hanzo asked, every muscle pulled taut.   
  
"I've been looking for you Hanzo, to discuss payment for my little favor. If I remember correctly you promised me anything I wanted yes?"   
  
Hanzo grit his teeth, cursing his panicked stupidity. "I do not recall what it was I promised, I was more concerned about Genji."   
  
"And Genji is doing better than expected." McCree waved off that line of discussion, slinking into Hanzo's space. "We're here to talk about you. And what I want from you."   
  
"What _do_ you want? I seem to have asked that already and not gotten an answer," Hanzo snapped, narrowing his eyes as he drew himself up to his full height, still several inches shorter than the demon even though McCree was slouching.   
  
"It's simple Sweet Pea. I want a date. With you."   
  
Hanzo blinked once, then twice, and a third time for good measure. "You want a what?"  
  
"A date. You, me, candles and romance. Maybe a kiss or two or three." The demon grinned slowly, teeth still a brighter white than expected.   
  
"I refuse."   
  
"You don't get to refuse. You promised me anything and I'm here to collect. Just a date, nothing more nothing less." That too wide smile was still on McCree's face and Hanzo wanted to smack it off. "We could even talk about your brother for some of it if you wanted." The demon offered, knowing exactly the right kind of carrot to dangle in front of him.  
  
"Fine. When?"   
  
"Tonight after you get off work. Leaves you less time to run."   
  
Curse that demon. Curse his own stupidity. Curse the Elders.   
  
He had a date with a demon.   
  
Oh how the mighty have fallen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everyone. I participated in the mchanzo big bang, and my fic was an acquaintances to friends to boyfriends angsty angst fest. It's worth a read if you haven't. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14034507

For as quickly as the day had gone up until two, the hour between two and three went excruciatingly slow.  
  
Jesse chose the booth closest to Hanzo's desk. The demon had a revolver that never seemed to need to be manually reloaded, and at one point he set it down, turned to look over at Hanzo, then picked the gun back up and without looking, shot multiple rounds right into the target's center. As if he was showing off. The demon also made several attempts at conversation, asking how he'd been the last few years, commenting on how good he looked with his 'new' haircut, asking if he missed having long hair. Small talk things that Hanzo ignored. At one point McCree had turned and stared at him pointedly.  
  
"Yes?" Hanzo responded, not looking up from the book he kept in his desk. To be perfectly honest it came _with_ the desk, but Hanzo needed something to make himself look busy, so out it came. It was some insipid adventure story, at least from the pages he had been reading. Something about a magician who had summoned a demon themselves. How fitting. He wouldn't have put it past either Ms. Amari or the very demon himself to have left it there for him to find.  
  
"Well darlin', I was hopin' that with you bein' an expert marksman an' all, you could help me adjust my stance." The demon tried, offering him a smile.  
  
Hanzo snorted, "The only thing that needs adjusting, demon, is your proclivity to showing off on people that it will not work on." From the corner of his eye, Hanzo watched the faintest of pouts appear on the demon's features as he turned back away. Hanzo refused to feel bad.  
  
After all, he already had been forced to go on a date with this demon, he didn't see the need to talk to him or help him while he was at work as well.  
  
Hanzo had two hours of work after the demon left, and it went by blessedly quiet. The soft music playing through the speakers was foreign enough in origin that Hanzo couldn't recognize it, but it was soothing none the less; not that it could be heard when the range was busy, He used the time to perform some basic maintenance on Stormbow. The repetitive action was soothing in its own way.  
  
After saying his goodbyes to Ana and Amelie, Hanzo stepped through the front door of Shrike Weaponry, and into the heat of the late afternoon, ready to walk back to the small apartment he rented on the outskirts of the city, not too terribly far away from the range. He had been walking for only a minute or two when he felt it, a sudden breeze behind him.  
  
He turned, striking reflexively at the assumed attacker, only to have his fist caught in a hot hand. "Well ain't that just a fine how do ya do?" his would be assailant drawled, eyes flashing coal black for such a quick moment that Hanzo almost assumed he missed it.  
  
"Demon. You should know better than to sneak up on trained assassins." Hanzo admonished, snatching his hand back from the heated grip.  
  
"You wound me darlin, I was just makin' sure you didn't forget about our date." The demon replied, causing Hanzo to scoff.  
  
"As if I could forget with you forcing me into it. You do realize what happened the last time I had my back against a wall yes?"  
  
"Somehow I doubt it was you enjoyin' yourself carnally." Hanzo saw the demon wink, grinning again with those too sharp teeth, and he felt a shiver of disgust roll down his spine. It's not that he wasn't attracted to the demon, he just hated the feeling of a power imbalance. One this large reminded him of his clan. "Naw, I'd put money on it being when you sold your soul to me so I could play tag with a couple o' spirit dragons."  
  
"Speaking of. Our contract is void if you did not successfully rescue my brother. I want proof that he's safe and alive before we go anywhere." Hanzo insisted, staring up at the demon with his eyes narrowed and arms folded.  
  
"Now, see, I was expectin' this sooner rather than later. So I brought a picture. Genji's stayin' with some monks in Nepal. They've helped him get back on his feet so to speak." The demon produced a photograph of Genji, heavily scarred but smiling, with his arm looped around some unknown man's neck. Both of them were flashing the peace sign at the camera with their eyes closed.  
  
Genji's hair was still green.  
  
"I will be keeping this." Hanzo stated, and it took every ounce of self control he had to remain impassive, even though he very much wanted to sob at the sight of his baby brother and what he had done to him. "This photograph will do for now, if you come see me again I expect one with him showing a date within the month you give it to me."  
  
Hanzo turned then, and continued to walk towards his apartment, carefully carrying the photograph. It would sit by his bedside until he could get a frame for it. Then he would find a better place to put it. Genji looked ages older in the photograph, but that was a good thing, it meant he survived.  
  
_But not unscathed_ , a traitorous part of his mind whispered. _He was snatched from the maws of your dragons and is covered in the marks of their teeth._  
  
Hanzo shook that thought away, and ascended the steps to his apartment with silent ease, hearing the soft stomp of the demon behind him. He unlocked the door and slipped his shoes off on the entry mat, unable to really stop the demon from following him in. "You will take off your boots." Hanzo stated, turning to stare at the demon again. The demon watched him carefully for a minute, before shrugging and toeing off his boots, leaving them on the mat beside Hanzo's own more sensible shoes.  
  
Hanzo motioned to the couch, before retreating into his bedroom to set the photograph of Genji somewhere safe and change into more appropriate attire. Just because he did not want to go on this date didn't mean he had been raised by wolves. A black button down and matching slacks, the silver watch he had taken with him from home that fateful night. He combed through the longer part of his hair, before pulling it back up again, and he was ready to go. He exited the room after one last, longing look to Genji's photograph, only to find that McCree had also changed into something more appropriate for a date.  
  
_Handsome as he may be_ , Hanzo reminded himself almost as if he were speaking to Genji when they were children _, he is no mere man, and he will cause you pain if you let your guard down. Give him no further opportunities to take advantage of you._  
  
Without acknowledging the demon, Hanzo stepped past him and chose a pair of dress shoes from the small shelf he kept near his door.  
  
"You clean up real nicely Hanzo. Not that I doubted it. I also like what you've done with your hair." The demon was speaking almost as if this were a real date, as if he _hadn't_ forced him into this farce. "I hope you don' mind that I popped off to get changed too."  
  
It was true, gone was the flannel and blue jeans with a ridiculous belt buckle. The demon was dressed in a sensible tan button down and black slacks. His hair was combed and neatly parted, facial hair groomed almost as impeccably as Hanzo's was. Sure he still had the scruff but it was almost attractive on him.  
  
"If only you had stayed 'popped off,'" Hanzo replied dryly, without looking at the demon as he laced up his shoes.  
  
"Naw. Where's the fun in that?" The demon replied, chuckling softly. At least one of them was amused by this situation. "Besides, I made us reservations at the nicest place in town. I even have a taxi waiting for us."  
  
As it turned out, the taxi was an Uber, the car being driven by an overzealous woman with a British accent, and she was on her way to work at the so called 'nicest place in town' that they happened to be heading to. This 'nicest place in town' just so happened to be an Olive Garden.  
  
Hanzo was not amused.  
  
While they waited to be seated, because the reservation wasn't even an actual _reservation_ so much as being put on a _wait list_ , Hanzo turned as far away from the demon as he could without seeming overtly rude. It didn't stop the demon from talking on about what food was good here. When Hanzo had been told 'best restaurant in the city' he had been expecting some place with a dress code that didn't admit children or anyone with less than a stellar reputation. He had been expecting somewhere with actual class that wasn't a chain.  
  
"So that monk," the demon started, capturing Hanzo's attention, if only slightly, "You remember the one. In that picture I showed you."  
  
"With my brother," Hanzo acknowledged.  
  
"Yeah! Anyways. His name is Zenyatta and he's training to be the master of that temple. He helped me make sure Genji didn't suffer too much permanent damage. Boy he was a right spitfire when me an' Zen first brought him in. So angry, an' he didn' listen to nobody." From the corner of his eye, Hanzo could see the demon turned towards him and watching him intently, a smile on his face. "Kinda reminds me of you actually."  
  
"McCree, party of two?" The hostess finally called, and Hanzo stood, near immediately, brushing imaginary lint off of his pants. When the demon stood as well, the hostess began to lead them into the dining area, and Hanzo followed her with purposeful strides, shoulders set in determination. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, lest the demon get any more "bright ideas".  
  
He didn't want these kinds of shenanigans to ensue. Either the demon took his soul or left him alone. It was better than this limbo, this hell.  
  
They were led to a small table, and the demon held out a chair for him as if he were some damsel. Huffing, Hanzo took the other one. Wisely the hostess seating them didn't say anything about it, instead smiling as she handed them their menus.  
  
"You're in luck today gentlemen, you've got the best waitress in the house tonight. Her name is Lena, and she'll be zipping by here in a minute to take your drink order." The hostess gave them another smile and walked off, leaving them to look at their menus.  
  
It would have been peaceful of the demon didn't immediately begin running his mouth. It was clear from the way he spoke, he had been here numerous times before. Hanzo just tuned him out and tried to pick an entree, hoping to get this farce over with as soon as possible.  
  
The demon kept glancing at him over the top of his menu, which he had up in front of him like a shield. "Say, Hanzo, should we get one appetizer to split or two?" The demon asked, as if this wasn't their first excursion together, and wouldn't be their last. Hanzo looked over the appetizer list with a frown, considering his options.  
  
"I want the calimari." He stated, and the demon nodded, making a thoughtful noise.  
  
"Alright, and then I'll get the zucchini parmesan bites. We'll split both an' it'll be a great time. Do you know what you're gettin' otherwise?" Hanzo didn't see the point of sharing foods as they weren't really a couple and this wasn't really a date, but he wasn't about to complain, especially since he would make sure the demon picked up the check.  
  
"The herb grilled salmon. And the paired wine." He stated, shutting his menu and setting it off to the side. Idly, he examined his nails, before looking at the demon, "If I visit the restroom will you be able to order?"  
  
"Yeah sugar, feel free. Just don' get lost on the way back." The joke was paired with a wink and Hanzo resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stood, turning and heading to the bathroom, only thinking of escaping through the back once. He didn't have to use the bathroom, he just wanted the escape from the demon's gaze.  
  
He splashed water on his face and ran cold water over his fingertips, staring at himself in the mirror. He didn't, and never would, regret the choice he made to save Genji. What he despised though, was the predicament he found himself in. He didn't want to be on a date with someone he would have been attracted to under any other circumstance.  
  
Because if he tried hard enough he could almost, _almost_ pretend like this was something terribly normal, like he had gotten a date with someone who was ruggedly handsome and charming in his own way. If he tried hard enough he could even see past the whole.... demon thing.  
  
But he didn't want to.  
  
The door opened and Hanzo jolted, washing his hands properly in the icy water, before splashing his face again, turning off the taps and drying off. He took a fortifying breath, and returned to his table, sitting down and folding his hands neatly in front of him.  
  
"So tell me about Genji." He stated, having decided it was better to focus on his goal.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of what happened to Genji

"So tell me about Genji." The order was met with a sigh and folded hands from Jesse, who looked around to see if anyone was listening too closely at their conversation. Finding there was nobody that was looking or acting suspicious, he thought it safe to continue  
  
"Well darlin' it's best we go back to the beginnin' then, unless you've got qualms about indulgin me a lil further" Hanzo's consideration was interrupted by the waitress, who had also been their driver, bringing the appetizers, Jesse's beer, and the first glass of Hanzo's wine. Hanzo silently picked up his glass, examining the wine from as many angles as he could before delicately giving it a sniff. "It's not poisoned darlin. You can drink it."  
  
"I'm not checking for poison you imbecile, I'm ascertaining its quality." Hanzo took another delicate sniff of the glass.  
  
"And?"  
  
"It is passable. For an establishment such as this." Hanzo took a sip that was, if anything, more delicate and hesitant than his sniffs.  
  
"Hey now, Olive Garden is great!" Jesse jabbed a finger in Hanzo's direction, not truly angry or offended, but close.  
  
"Mayhaps for someone with poor taste." Hanzo turned his nose up slightly, then took another sip of the wine.  
  
"Now you wait just one minute!" Jesse's hand smacked the table, rattling the silverware softly.  
  
Hanzo's eyes bored into Jesse with an intensity that screamed arrogance. "I've waited long enough. Tell me about Genji."  
  
"Fine fine..." Jesse huffed, snatching up his beer and taking a swallow, "it all started like this...."  
  
\------  
  
Jesse McCree hadn't always been a demon like some people. He had been human once. Not so long before. But he had taken to it as he did most jobs, with an enthusiasm and intent to make the best of it. No he had offered his soul to the demons in order to get out of a gang that was headed to hell and fast. Gabriel took him in, gave him a chance to make deals with random folks. Now some people wanted things that were too big, which meant that it was an almost instant 'forfeiture of life' but if the all-seer said it was alright to do without harm, most people were left alone to wallow in the agony of 'what is my payment for this'. Standard things had standard prices of course, and it usually went along the lines of an eye for an eye.  
  
However, as Gabriel had explained to him, they were low class, and the people who wanted the big things usually knew who to summon by name.  
  
The aim of the game, keep your name out of other people's mouths and live the rest of your existence in relative comfort.  
  
Jesse had always been bad at playing along when confronted by a pretty face.

The first time he had met Hanzo, he was taken by the young man's beauty, the sharp angles and desperate eyes. Though, Jesse had noted, not desperate enough to tell him what the problem was right away. He had seemed more surprised that his methods had actually produced someone. Not that he could blame the man.

The man dismissed him, but Jesse couldn't resist fucking with him a little, if only because he was the first hot guy to summon him in a long time. He leaned into the Japanese man's space, pleased with how he only withdrew the slightest bit at Jesse's obviously demonic exaggerations. “Well I still need payment partner. You summoned me, I came.” Not strictly true, but he doubted the man before him, still nearly a child by the looks of him, knew that particular rule.

He saw the man's jaw work, a frown marring those elegant features again. He turned up his nose ever so slightly and Jesse nearly melted over how adorable the disdain was. “Payment? I asked for nothing. We made no deal.”

He was definitely a feisty one. Jesse leaned back on his heels a moment, still grinning even as the toes of his boots lifted off the ground, only to slip forward again as he rocked in place. "Oh if we had struck a deal the payment would be much steeper, believe me,” Jesse told him, grinning, “I just want something small. A trifle really. You won' even need to sign for it.” Jesse slid back into Hanzo's space, leaning over first, but following it with the smallest of baby steps closer, to keep himself balanced in case the man shoved him.

He didn't. The man's eyes stayed locked on his own. “What is it you want?” he asked, and Jesse was almost proud of how steady his voice was. Most people didn't keep their cool this close to someone demonic. Not while they stretched their smile too wide up their cheeks, sharpened their teeth to nasty little triangle points, or blackened their eyes. Demons could do all sorts of neat tricks and his boss was the king of the creepy. Jesse didn't go for overt scary in the same way Gabriel did.

In answer to the young man's question, Jesse reached up, towards those dark locks that looked like water flowing in the night. He bypassed burying his fingers in it and pulling the man in for a kiss, he could almost imagine how soft those pouting lips would be against his own. Instead he tugged the man's hair ribbon free, releasing those flowing locks to the light breeze.

“This'll do.” Jesse's grin turned wider as he took a step back from the man who had summoned him, not breaking eye contact for a long moment before turning and taking a step back towards the shadow that he had come from. “And if you ever change your mind about askin' for a deal, darlin', you can summon me by name.” He threw out, doubting that the man would rise to the bait but unable to help himself.

“It would help if I actually knew your name." He could almost hear the young man's disdainful sniff. "Not that I have any plans to summon anything like you again.” Jesse almost couldn't contain himself, after all, the man had risen to his bait. He wanted to be able to summon him again! Jesse could almost laugh from excitement. Still, he paused, swallowed, and regained his composure.

He turned and tipped his hat, “McCree. Jesse McCree.” Then he slipped back between planes under the cover of the shadow he had stepped into,disappearing from the human realm in an instant.

Gabriel and Sombra were waiting in their home, a house pulled over from the human realm by Gabe and Sombra years before he offered himself up. When Jesse asked how he got it the answer was always the same. A gruff "won it in the divorce" from Gabe before the subject dropped. Jesse was certain he was kidding. After all, Gabe was the biggest advocate for staying away from humans unless summoned.. He just wanted to live out the rest of his life in peace.

Sure, he occasionally visited the All-Seer, but she was closer to the three of them than to a normal human anyways.

"What do you have there Jesse?" Sombra asked, looking up from her screens. She had traded her soul for technological prowess beyond her time, and as such, did all of the background on who summoned them. Better to know your enemy than be surprised with the person who summoned you after you agreed to a bargain. Most of the time they would request an hour to come up with an answer, and a price. Most people were willing to agree.

Jesse still had the ribbon clutched as delicately as he could manage between his fingers, hand having navigated towards his midsection as he traveled. "What?" He asked, before one purple talon gestured at his middle. He looked down. "Oh, that? That's just a.... token, from my last chat."

"A ribbon? What job did they have you do that you thought it wise to take a ribbon as payment?" She asked, delicate eyebrow arching upwards.

"We didn't make a deal or nothin'." Jesse said, sliding his thumb along the smooth silk, "We just talked is all. Told him to summon me again if he changed his mind."

"Jesse McCree." The growl came from behind him and it took everything in him not to jump to the ceiling. "Tell me you did not give someone your name just because you wanted to get your dick wet."

"I didn' give him my name so I could get laid!" Jesse squawked indignantly, turning to face Gabriel. "Though you're one to talk, you've got a human you gave your name to too!"

"And it was the biggest mistake of my life pendejo! Learn from my mistakes for once in your goddamn life!" The snarl ripped from Gabriel's throat, something deep and visceral. Jesse vaguely had the impression that Gabriel was seconds away from tearing his throat out with his teeth.

"Right so you only go to visit him because he summons you and you don't come home smelling like sex every time." Jesse sneered back unable to resist baiting the other man.

"Uh gentlemen, I hate to interrupt this scintillating conversation you're having but we have a bigger problem. Jesse you didn't mention that you were dealing with the Shimadas."

"You gave your name to a Shimada." Gabriel's voice lost all of the snap, and instead took on a tone Jesse knew all too well. The 'there's no way you could be this stupid' tone. Jesse resented it, but at the same time for as smart as he was becoming, he sure could be dumb sometimes.

"I dunno boss, what's so special about a Shimada? They like the Montegues to our Capulets or something?" In for a penny, in for a pound he always said.Gabriel scrubbed a hand down his face and went to go lurk over Sombra's shoulder instead.

"Please tell me your intel is wrong Sombra." Gabriel pleaded through grit teeth.

"Un momento Jefe" Now it was Sombra's turn to get offended. "My intel is never wrong. This is Shimada Hanzo, the eldest son of the Shimada-gumi and heir apparent." She waved a hand in the air and a photograph appeared from her fingertips. Sure enough there was a picture of his summoner, looking more severe, a little younger, but no less handsome.

"The Shimadas," Gabriel started, purposefully staring at the wall past the picture and keeping his voice deathly even and quiet, "Are like Deadlock. Only organized, competent and well funded." Jesse felt his mouth go dry, and knew the color had to be draining from his cheeks as well.

"Well shit." Jesse replied. "Hey boss? I think I fucked up."

"What was your first clue cabrón?" Gabriel deadpanned, finally looking at him, eyes aged well beyond his physical years. All of a sudden, Jesse felt 17 again, locked up in a jail cell with a bloody stump for an arm and knowing he was sure to die.

"What do I do?" He asked, voice hardly more than a whisper.

"The only thing we can do," Gabriel made sure to emphasize the 'we' as he stared Jesse in the eyes, "Is hope you don't get summoned to do any world ending jobs."

\--

Jesse had just begun to think that Hanzo had forgotten about him when he felt a pull somewhere just behind his rib-cage. He swore as he felt all of the breath go out of him, shattering a glass in his metal hand as it clenched involuntarily against the pain. The pull came again, the will of his summoner not wanting to be ignored, and this time Jesse couldn't resist. He slipped through the darkness to where he was being called, able to guide it so he appeared behind the man instead. He stood up straight, the pain suddenly vanishing as quickly as it came, so Jesse put on a smile, lighting a cigar noiselessly and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Well howdy sugarplum. Didn' expect to have you callin' on me again.” he drawled, barely managing to avoid flinching back when the young man, Hanzo he remembered from Sombra's intel, whirled to face him, arrow aimed directly for his heart. He waited, and waited, then took a couple of puffs off of his cigar and let the smoke trail out of him. You gonna tell me what you summoned me for, lookin' like that? You ain't gonna shoot at me are ya?”

The young Shimada seemed to have the wind taken out of his sails somewhat, slowly letting his bow fall to his side, arrow clutched in his other hand. “I require you to save my brother. The Elders wish him dead and I am releasing my dragons on the compound. They will eat everything they encounter. If you save him and never tell him, or anyone of what transpired here you may have whatever price you seek.” Hanzo told him, shifting the arrow to his the hand with his bow and lifting one of the bags, offering it “This will be for Genji's recovery.”

Jesse didn't take the bag, instead taking another long series of puffs off of his cigar. “Savin someone who ought to be dead is an awful nasty business Sweetpea.”  
  
“He will not be dead if you reach him in time. He is in the east wing, Near the gardens.” Hanzo pressed the bag into his hand anyways and turned back towards the manor, aura shifting and changing beneath his skin.Jesse stood, staring and watching as Hanzo readied his arrow again and let loose a mighty yell. As the energy erupted from his body he turned his head, to see McCree still standing there. “Go! Now!” He instructed, and the Jesse jolted into motion, disappearing nearly instantly, trying to beat the energy to Hanzo's brother.

He could feel the searing heat scorching through nearly every plane of existence, rending soul from flesh and consuming both. Pulling the youngest Shimada out of the path of these.... entities... for lack of a better term, was the most difficult thing Jesse had been asked to do in his short life, but he was ordered to do so by the man who summoned him and so he'd give it his best effort.

As it was, he was nearly too late, tugging the sleeping Shimada into a different plane of existence and out of the dragons' slavering maws had been a close call, leaving pieces.... or rather.... large amounts of Genji behind. Even moving as quickly as he did through different planes and portals Jesse was still covered in blood by the time he made it to the same doctor that gave him his arm back.

"Angie!" he shouted as he entered her lab "Hurry he's gonna die!"

"Jesse McCree, What did you do?!" She shouted back, rushing over and urging him to deposit Genji onto a gurney.

"It's complicated, can you save him?"

"I don't know. But I will try." She said, carting the gurney off to the surgery wing of her lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today is my birthday, so obviously I gave you guys a present haha! If you like it make sure to leave a comment, as I love going back and rereading them. 
> 
> Also, I am participating in the McHanzo reversebang and have an awesome artist and I'm really excited, I wish I could tell you more. If you haven't read my big bang piece it is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14034507)


	8. Chapter 8

The surgery, or rather, surgeries had taken days. Hours upon hours of Angela Ziegler pumping Genji Shimada full of whatever mystical arts she had been blessed with. The woman was literally an angel incarnate and it showed, leaving her unwilling, or possibly unable, to do her very best for whatever poor soul showed up at her door.

Even if that poor soul was brought by a demon. Throughout those days, Jesse didn't go far. He stayed seated in the waiting room of Angela's clinic. Or at Genji's bedside. No matter the hour, if Angie was operating, Jesse was in the waiting room, sitting and waiting for the latest update. After a week, Genji was out of the woods enough that he could chance going home without needing to worry about pulling some strings with the young man's life.

It was no surprise, when he came back, showered and in clean clothes, that Angela was waiting on him, sitting at a desk with paperwork on it. She had redirected his entry portal, the little sneak. "So, are you going to tell me what exactly tore that young man to ribbons?" she asked, her normally melodic voice hard as she folded her hands on top of her papers, clearly waiting for an answer.

"Well, y'see Angie, I was summoned and needed to do a little favor for this guy. He wanted me to make sure his little brother stayed livin' y'know? When I got to him, he was all chewed up, and I knew you were the best so I brought him here." Jesse was, of course, glossing over the finer nuances of the events, but Angela knew enough of his history to know that the less she knew, the better off she was.

She stared him down for a while longer, apparently just wanting to see him sweat and fidget - he did a remarkable job of holding off on that particular impulse - before nodding once. "Provided nothing unforseen happens he shall be able to leave my care in a few weeks, so long as he has somewhere to go where he will be able to recover properly," Angela's tone still held an air of judgement, as if she doubted he would be able to find anywhere suitable.

"Lucky for you, I know just the place. Some nice little monks in Nepal." Jesse met her incredulous look with a grin, "They just happen to owe me a favor."

"What could you do for monks that would make them owe you a favor?" Angela asked, clearly skeptical of both his ability to make friends and help even the most pious creatures on the planet.

"Well remember a couple years back when I came for all of those fancy antibiotics?"

"I just assumed you had caught some sort of demonic STD," Angela replied, voice dry as the desert.

"Ya wound me Ang'," Jesse told her, placing his hand on his heart as he took a step back. "I make sure to use protection when I'm boot scootin' beneath the sheets."

"I have lived ages longer than you and will doubtlessly outlive you and I will never be able to get that image from my head. Thank you so very much McCree." Angela's look was one of a creature who had been suffering for eons, and Jesse took a fair amount of pleasure from being the one to put it on her face.

"But in all seriousness, they had an outbreak of somethin in the village and the monks needed the antibiotics to help the villagers."

"And they just happened to summon you?" Angela raised an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled.

"Naw, nothin' that fancy, Sombra shoved me into a portal, wantin' me to roll down a mountainside. Guess she missed, cause I wound up landin' at the leader's feet. He wasn't nearly as amused as some of the other monks were. But since I was able to get him help for the villagers, he agreed to owe me a favor."

"And you are certain they will host that young man for his recovery?" Angela asked, finally pulling her gaze away from Jesse to shuffle papers on her desk.

"I'm gonna double check, but yeah, they should."

"You do that." Angela didn't say anything more to him, so Jesse took that as his cue to leave. He sat at Genji's bedside and told him soft stories about growing up, before he was a demon. Stories that were half exaggerated fantasy and half unpleasant truth. Stories of dusty roads and the taste of armadillo. Of cowboys and gangs and streets coated in sunset reflected blood. Of death and damnation. Anything to keep Genji anchored to the world of the living. If he looked a plane or two up, he could see Genji's consciousness still floating in the space his body should take up. It gave him hope. If he looked further across the clinic-slash-research laboratory's space on that higher plane, he could not quite see, but definitely sense Angela watching Genji's consciousness as well.

The first sign of him waking, Jesse pressed himself into the shadows, not quite slipping to the next plane, but definitely letting Angela take the spotlight as she explained to him where he was and as much of what happened as she knew, boiling it down to 'you were in an accident and a kind stranger brought you here for treatment.' It caused Genji to give a weak shake of his head and rasp "It was no accident." back at her. Angela patted him on an unbandaged part of his arm, near the shoulder, and took his vitals, checking on his pain levels, before giving him an injection of something that made him sleep again.

Genji discovered him the next night.

"Come out. I know you're here. If you're going to kill me finish the job now." His voice was still a harsh rasp from the damage to his throat from both the attacks and the tubes during surgery, but it was stronger than anyone really expected. Jesse let the shadows slide away from him and stepped closer to the bed.

"Howdy." He said, tipping his hat in Genji's direction. "Glad to see ya awake."

"Why? So you can claim honor when you finish the job my brother failed to do?" The stitches along Genji's face and neck pulled as he spoke, but the green haired man paid them no mind.

"Naw, I'd say he did a pretty good job of not killin' ya. He hated what the clan was forcin' him to do." Jesse walked closer and dropped back into his usual seat, crossing his feet at the ankles and leaning back as much as the stiff chair would allow, hands laced neatly on his belt buckle.

"He sent the dragons after me, how could he not want me dead?" Genji countered, as Jesse pulled a toothpick out of his pocket and began to lightly chew on it, in place of a cigarillo.

"He sent me after you too. Not the elders, not the rest of the clan. You specifically. My one job was 'don't let Genji die'. I'd say you're not dead." Genji just huffed and shut his eyes again, pretending to be asleep, effectively ending the conversation.

The next few weeks progressed similarly. Genji was, rightly, mad about what his life had become, and Angela tended to him, with Jesse sticking around mostly to make sure Genji didn't blow an air bubble into his IV, or tear stitches while she was off doing other things with that Irish lady she shared the lab with. Apparently that lady had been responsible for the tech that replaced the missing chunks of Genji's limbs.

He had, of course, also checked in with the monks that would be taking over Genji's rehabilitation once he was cleared to leave the lab. While most of them didn't seem to care either way that they would be getting a new charge, only wishing Genji a harmonious recovery, there was a younger monk who seemed quite excited at the prospect of having a new charge. When the order's elders weren't around, but Jesse was, the younger monk seemed to hunger for the scraps of information that Jesse could provide. Seemed to be unaffected by the fact that Jesse was a demon and none of them could be one hundred percent positive that Genji was really a human, nor would they until they laid eyes on him for themselves.

Jesse wasn't worried, knowing that even if they didn't find him fully human anymore, they'd still accept him as one of their own.

"There's one eager to meet ya Genji." Jesse told him one afternoon as electrodes were stimulating his artificial muscles working on getting them to fire properly and connect with the nerves. Judging by the grimace on Genji's face it was an unpleasant process. "Real petite, skin the color of desert sands after a rainstorm, sense of humor as sharp as a cactus thorn."

"Sounds like you're trying to set me up not find me a place to live." Genji groused, "Did you tell him I look like Frankenstein's monster?" Genji jerkily gestured to his face, and the red lines that were now crossing it. In a way, Jesse knew Genji was fortunate, that most of the damage was confined to his arms and legs. He could have easily been swallowed whole, not just snapped at. Ignored, Angela made a noise that was somewhere in the realm between frustrated and pleased.

"Is it a crime if I do a little multi-tasking?" Jesse replied, grinning back at him.

"Yes." Genji and Angela both replied, causing Jesse to gasp in feigned shock, hand coming to rest over his heart. "Now stop making my patient move when he's not supposed to."

"Come on Ang, any time his muscles are moving is good, you know that."  
  
"Yes but I am trying to make sure that the synthetic neurons and muscles are working, not just the flesh ones. And with you having him move now, you are making that incredibly difficult. Once he is attached to the sensors he may hit you all he likes."

"Aw, Angie no," Jesse whined, "Don't give him permission."

"Too late cowman." Genji replied, snickering.

The closer Genji got to being discharged, the fewer good days he had. He'd lay in bed staring at the artificial parts of himself and the scars that were moving from angry red to a bright pink of new growth. Sure he could flex, and bend and begin to chew solid food again, but he couldn't seem to stand looking at himself in a mirror. Jesse would tempt him with competitions, with food, with gambling, and Genji would just groan and roll over, or if they were on an 'encouraged excursion' around the lab, ask if he could go back to bed.

Everyone understood why. The thought of suddenly going out and about and having to interact with people who didn't see him every day, who hadn't seen all of his scars and synthetics was daunting as hell. Jesse could say with the utmost honesty that if their positions were reversed, he wouldn't want to go either. He'd want to stay in the safety of his hospital room and avoid the pitying, or worse disgusted, stares and the inevitable onslaught of questions.

Even with Genji fighting it every step of the way, the countdown to his discharge continued to tick closer and closer to zero. Jesse gave one final solitary visit to the monks, updating them on the time table and Genji's state of mind. Mondatta, the eldest monk, assured him that they were ready and that nobody would think any less of Genji for his scars or draw any unnecessary attention to them.

It was only a short two weeks later that Jesse stood with Genji, hand wrapped firmly around the young man's flesh bicep, to keep him from bolting the instant they stepped through the portal.

There was a brief bit of darkness, a slight feeling of vertigo, then bright lights and chirping birds. The head monk, Mondatta, was standing there to greet him with the newest monk beside him.

"Greetings," Mondatta said once they had gotten their bearings once more. "My name is Mondatta and this is my younger brother Zenyatta. You must be Genji. We are most pleased to have you joining us." Both brothers gave a low bow, which Genji returned with a slight dip of his shoulders, still frowning.

"I am certain you are tired. Please, let me show you to your quarters." Zenyatta said, gesturing with a hand back towards the temple. Reluctantly, Genji went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this and the next chapter were originally supposed to be one, but I split it up to get the update to you sooner. There's one more Genji centric chapter left before we get back to the McHanzos


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one month and the second one is twice the length???? whattttt??? has hell frozen over or something????

Jesse found the monks endlessly curious. They were human, he could sense that much from their auras alone. But in the time he has known them, they had accomplished things that he couldn't explain. Still, they were looking after Genji and treating him as if he was one of their own, even though he wasn't interested in the peace they seemed to be offering.

"Genji is in discord." The monk, Zenyatta, said on the first visit Jesse made to check in on Genji. "He feels as if he has lost his place in the world. It is a difficult transition."

"Maybe a friendly face'll help him out." Jesse suggested, knowing he had a flask hidden at his waist, under his ever-present serape.

"He has turned away company from all of us, but I shall ask." Zenyatta led him through the temple, into the quietest wing. Guest quarters weren't normally this deep in. "Genji is not seen as a guest. He is a part of us for as long as he wishes to be. The Iris knows he is a soul worthy of its warmth and harmony. He is more than welcome to become a student here if he so chooses."

"That's mighty kind of ya. I know his brother'd appreciate that." Jesse replied as they came to a stop in front of a simple door. Zenyatta knocked lightly upon it.

"Go away." Came the croak from the other side, barely audible through the door.

"Genji, you have a visitor," Zenyatta said, patience and composure evident even through he had to have gone through this same conversation several times before.

"I don't care. Whoever it is can jump off the mountain." Zenyatta gave a soft tsk at that, lips quirking into a small half smile even as he tried to hide it by tilting his head down and away.

"Certainly you do not mean that my student."

"I do." Genji's voice was only slightly petulant, deep underneath the remaining hopelessness. "I might even jump with them."

"Genji...." Zenyatta sighed, and Jesse clapped him on the shoulder.

"Naw, it's alright. I understand. Genji," Jesse started, turning his head towards the door. "Don't take me leavin' now as givin' up on you. Whether you like me for savin' ya or not, I'm still your friend."

Jesse and Zenyatta turned and took a few steps back towards the way they came, Zenyatta's head swiveling back towards the door almost as if drawn by a magnet.

"If he would only stop shutting everyone out...." Zenyatta sighed, even as they walked further from his room. "Perhaps he could begin to accept who he is now. He really is not that different."

"Did you know him before all this?" Jesse asked, curious as to how Zenyatta could know he wasn't too different.

"The soul does not change even if the physical form does." Zenyatta told him, turning to stare up into his eyes. "Nor does the soul change even if one believes it does. Good people are good people so long as they are committed to making that choice."

Jesse felt as if his veins were suddenly full of ice water, goosebumps prickling along the back of his neck and down his arms. He cleared his throat softly. "Yeah, well, you'd know wouldn't you." He felt another shiver slide down his spine. "Uh, by the way, do y'all still sell honey?" The change of topic was perhaps obvious, but Jesse wasn't interested in dealing with his own moral compass just now with someone who perhaps knew more than they should about the nature of the soul.

"We do indeed! The lavender field turned out well this season and the honey is spectacular. It goes well on morning toast." Zenyatta lit up again, filled with pride at his fellow monks' accomplishments.

"Mind if I buy a couple of jars from ya? It goes over real well back home." Gabe liked to use it in his cooking when it was available. Nobody mentioned it if he made a few special trips just for the honey, lest they be told they can cook for themselves. Gabe always held to that threat, as Jesse had found on more than one occasion when his mouth got ahead of his brain.

"Of course! We can go back to the hives and pour it fresh for you." Zenyatta gave a single clap before leading him out of the building with gestures at every turn.

\--

Jesse had meant to come back sooner, he really did. But an influx of jobs, including a 'go keep an eye on this human' from Gabe, kept him away for nearly a month. This time, when he stepped through the portal he found the monks all gathered on the front lawn for a meditation. Every one of them was seated in lotus, heads bowed and hands folded neatly in their laps. Although Jesse couldn't find the source, a series of soft chimes could be heard. The eldest monk, Mondatta sat in front of them, facing Jesse, and Jesse couldn't help but notice an empty space at the end of the row. He stepped around them, quiet as to not disturb them, and noticed the space was next to Zenyatta.

Probably for Genji, Jesse's mind supplied as he walked over to a nearby tree for some shade, intent to wait so he wasn't wandering the temple alone. He let himself listen to the chime of the unseen bells, or whatever they were, and the birds chirping away until slowly the chimes started to wind down, and one by one the monks opened their eyes.

"May the light of the Iris guide you to harmony," Mondatta told them, voice both soft and loud all at once.

"And you as well," the entire group replied, finally beginning to unbow their heads and look around. Zenyatta's eyes landed on him and a smile blossomed on his face.

"Welcome Jesse, I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Naw, it was nice just being able to enjoy the day." Jesse squinted up at the sky from beneath the brim of his hat. "We don't get much sunshine like this at home."

"The Iris has gifted us with beautiful weather." Zenyatta tilted his head up, face towards the sun and eyes closed, a happy smile on his lips. "But I assume you did not come just to bask in the sun." Zenyatta gave him a glance from the corner of his eye, tilting his head slightly, a wry smirk on his lips.

"I came to check on Genji. I meant to come sooner, but -" Zenyatta held up a hand and stopped him.

"You do not need to feel guilty Jesse, Genji is in good hands here." The monk soothed, turning to look at him fully. "And he has made progress. He is not always laying on his bed."

"Yeah? That's good." Jesse wasn't going to admit that he still felt guilty, even with the monk's reassurance, but he was almost certain that the man could tell anyways.

"He is allowing himself to feel his emotions, rather than despondence. It is most promising." Zenyatta began to lead the way into the temple, sunlight making his tanned skin seem to glow. Even though delicate looking men were not his type, per se, Jesse had to admit it was an attractive look.

They made their way to Genji's room and Zenyatta reached up, knocking lightly on the door. "Are you still awake my pupil?"

"I'm not your pupil." Genji snapped from inside the room.

"Genji, can I come in?" Jesse tried, hearing the creak of the wood from inside the room, telltale of Genji's pacing. There was a grumble, and the pacing stopped, before footsteps, heavy and angry came nearer to the door, flinging it open. Genji stood in front of them, obviously furious at something.

"Sure, why the fuck not." Genji growled, and Jesse took the opportunity to look at how he was healing. The marks on his face were fading from bright pink to a lighter one, and Jesse knew they'd be white before too long, the sharp contrast between skin and scar less so than the contrast between natural and artificial, part of his cheek and jaw a silvery gray from the replacement necessary after being caught by his brother's dragons.

Genji took a step back, jaw clenched tightly enough Jesse could see the artificial muscles twitch. He ignored it though, stepping through the door and clapping Genji on the shoulder. Genji jerked his shoulder back, almost slamming into the door from the force of his movement.

"What's eatin' you today?" Jesse asked, frowning softly at his friend.

"What is 'eating' me, McCree, is that I am stuck in this hellscape of a body after my own brother decided to attempt to murder me. On the orders of the remainder of my so called 'family'."

"Yeah, okay that's fair. But if we're bein' perfectly fair here, Hanzo didn't want you dead. Else he wouldn'ta sent me after ya." Jesse pointed out. "He really does love ya."

"Bullshit. If my brother truly cared, he would not have sent the dragons after me, relying on a demon to keep me safe." The way Genji spat the word 'demon' would have offended Jesse if he didn't understand how - rightfully - pissed Genji was.

Still, it stung just a little.

"Hey now, your brother was backed into a corner. He tried to make the best out of a shitty situation. Sometimes we fuck things up worse trying to make them better." Jesse's attempt at placating turned Genji's stormy look downright murderous.

"Get out." Jesse would have almost swore he heard the door crack beneath Genji's grip.

"Genji...." Jesse tried, reaching for him with his metal arm. Before he could even make it halfway, Genji's fingers closed around his wrist, synthetic flesh and bone meeting metal. Jesse's sensors were still fairly rudimentary in that arm, but he could feel the pressure, enough to dent the plates slightly. Were it his other hand, he was certain something would have broken.

"Get. Out. McCree." Genji snarled, shoving him back with his other hand while releasing his wrist. The sudden force made Jesse stumble and fall back onto his ass with a hard thump. He flexed the different joints in his metal wrist, and sighed when he felt them grind and catch. Of course Genji's more advanced technology could harm his more rudimentary model.

Zenyatta helped him up easily, and Jesse could feel the warmth where the monk touched him radiate to his core. "I'm fine Zen, really... Just my pride that's wounded s'all."

Zenyatta made a soft noise in the back of his throat. "I still apologize for Genji's behavior. He has good days and bad days. It appears today is one of the bad ones."

"You don't have t' apologize neither. I'll just come back again another day." Jesse patted Zenyatta on the shoulder and turned, disappearing into a portal to go see an angel about his arm.

The next few visits went similarly. Genji either yelled at him or threw things, sometimes both. Sometimes he just ranted and raved about Hanzo, and demons in general, and how could his brother sell a soul he didn't have. Jesse tried his best to remind him that his brother cared, or else neither of them would be in this situation right now. Other times Angela and her medicine was the cause of his ire. Those visits were the hardest, because he knew Angela only wanted what was best for people, and she had a hard time not saving everyone she possibly could.

Time passed. Months turned to years and some progress was made. For a while Genji seemed to be acclimating. The visits got harder again, however, as the pendulum that represented Genji's emotions swung from anger back towards sadness. Jesse didn't know how it could get worse than watching the man lay on his futon, sobbing about how he was ugly now, or how nobody would love him now that his body was a mess of scar tissue and not skin. He could see that those days were hard on Zenyatta too, and the monk often knelt by Genji's bedside during those days hands twisting in the fabric of his pants as he struggled to keep from touching Genji.

They hadn't spoken of it again, but it was obvious that neither one had forgotten the incident that caused Jesse to go in for some impromptu upgrades to his arm. Angela was thankfully able to keep it looking the same, while giving it some added features based on the success from Genji's synthetics.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about that, as it definitely made punching things less fun.

The worst days however, were the days that Genji saw him or heard his voice and crawled to him on hands and knees, pressing his face to Jesse's boots, begging to trade his soul for his former body.

"Hey now, I'm not going to do that." Jesse told him the first time.

"Why... why not?" Genji hiccuped around a sob, face still pressed to the toes of his boots.

"Because I can't." Jesse lied smoothly. He technically could, but such a thing caused problems as he could't always control whether or not they aged properly after that, what with now being a demon and all. Jesse also wasn't sure if Genji would take to being demonic any better than he did being partially synthetic.

"You can! I know you can!" Genji lifted his head and looked up at him, tears still flowing from his eyes. "Why won't you give me this?" Jesse sighed, eyes going darker and darker until they were voids of black, teeth sharpening to points, and fingernails extending to claws. Markings showed up on his skin, faint at first before darkening until they were highly noticeable. He snarled, and allowed black smoke to ooze from beneath his clothing, rolling along the floor in a thick sludge, a trick Gabriel taught him.

He looked inhuman and he knew it.

"Is this really what you want to be? Tethered to someone else's whims, knowing what's left of your old clan could summon you in a heartbeat, use you to destroy yourself or your brother? Never being able to be fully human again, or to feel the pleasures that came with it?" He knew he was laying it on thick, but he did not want to see Genji make the same mistakes he did.

Genji just pressed his face into his hands and choked back another sob.

Zenyatta came forward now and knelt by Genji's side, the smoke moving around the two of them rather than soaking over them. Jesse would have been impressed if he wasn't so frustrated by Genji's willingness to throw everything away.

"I will see you again Genji," Jesse said, turning and fading into the smoke, shifting planes without a thought.

He admittedly stayed away a little longer than he would have liked after that last 'conversation'. He had been unsettled, and by trying to convince Genji not to give up his own humanity, Jesse was reminded of what he had lost.

He knew his chances of finding love were slimmer than ever now, he knew he'd either outlive his partners or have to condemn them to the same fate if he did happen to find someone. He knew that no matter how human he looked, he still unsettled people and animals. Something that made the hair on the backs of their necks and arms stand up. Something that made them take a step away from him and not meet his eyes.

Alcohol didn't take the edge off as much as it used to either.

"What's the matter kid?" Gabriel asked one night, dropping into an armchair near the couch where Jesse was sat, eyes fixed on the television, even as it was turned off.

"Nothin'. Don't worry yourself about it none." Came the reply, though without conviction.

"It's about that kid isn't it? The one you've been going to visit."

"He's all scarred up, got patches of synth, was worried nobody was going to love him and begged for me to give him back his old body. Was willing to become one of us."

Gabriel made a soft hmm in the back of his throat, clearly waiting for Jesse to continue as he too watched the black screen of the television.

"It got me thinkin' about how we're either doomed to lose the ones we love or condemn em. And it sucks."

Gabriel made an understanding noise at that, and Jesse was reminded of the man in the photographs that had been taken in front of this very house, back when it existed in both realms, not just theirs. Blond hair and bright blue eyes, arm wrapped around Gabriel's neck to pull him in for a kiss to the temple. Both had been happy. Grinning, laughing, in love. It was plain to see from just the photos.

"It's a hard choice to make. Sometimes hard choices are shit for everyone involved. Especially if it involves love." It was sage advice. Nothing that helped Jesse out of his current emotional quagmire, but sage advice none the less.

"Maybe we're all just better off either datin' our own kind or not datin' at all," Jesse muttered sourly, "Fewer shit choices that way."

"Sorry kiddo, life doesn't always work out that way. Cupid shoots you in the ass when you least expect it and at the most inconvenient time. You'll learn.' Gabe dissolved into mist from his armchair only to mist back in a minute later with beer, ice cold and bottle open. "Here. Drink." Gabe handed him one of the bottles and raised his own in a mock toast. 'Welcome to being a grown up, mijo. A series of shitty decisions written by fate and foreseen by Ana Amari."

"Fate needs to go on fucking vacation," Jesse muttered, before taking a swig of his beer.

\--

The next visit was easier, though no less abnormal.

Mentally Genji seemed to have done a complete 180 from the last time Jesse had seen him. He was smiling, whistling, trotting around with the monks and generally being helpful and cheerful. He greeted Jesse with a slight bow and a wave.

"Glad to see you're feeling better?" He said slowly, confusion evident as he looked at Zenyatta, who looked almost exasperated.

"I've realized that once I go home this will be fixed. The clan will have made their point, I'll be a good Shimada and train under Hanzo, and then Angela can take these fake pieces off of me."

"Genji, we have discussed this..." Zenyatta said patiently, putting his hand on Genji's arm. "This is not some sort of hoax. You must come to terms with what really happened before you can heal."

"Zen, please, I am healed. Look at me. I am smiling, I am helping, I am being an actual human being instead of a whiny shit show." He looked over at Jesse now. "I was a shit show before and we all know it."

"Yeah.... you....were." Jesse's words were halted, and he was obviously confused at the change. "What.... brought this," He paused to gesture at the 'new and improved' Genji with an up and down sweep of his hand, "on?"

"I just decided if I wanted to keep this from happening for real, I had to shape up."

"Genji, it did happen for real," Zenyatta and Jesse both said at the same time.

Genji turned and wagged a finger, long and silvery from the synthetics, in Jesse's direction. "Fake memories."

Jesse was even more lost than he was. "Say what now?"

"You implanted fake memories in me to make it feel like I was really almost eaten by my brother's dragons."

Jesse resisted the urge to drop his head into his hands. "Genji. Why? Why would I do that?"

"To teach me a lesson," Genji replied, "which I learned, so can you take me back to Japan now?"

"I'm not taking you to Japan, Genji."

"That's the same thing Zen said." Genji grumbled for a moment, before brightening again. "That's okay, I'll walk. It'll show my discipline better."

"I will continue talking to him...." Zenyatta stated, as close to exasperated as Jesse had ever seen the monk. He then took Genji by the arm and led him back into the temple.

The most recent time Jesse came to visit, it was spring again, and had been several years since the initial summoning. The monks were again meditating out in the courtyard. Only this time, among the shaved heads were accompanied by a flash of green. Jesse walked to the same tree he had leaned against almost four years prior, the empty space next to Zenyatta taken by Genji, who stirred at the sound of his footfalls. Without obviously pulling himself from his own meditation, Zenyatta reached over and put a hand on Genji's thigh, near his knee. Genji stilled almost reflexively to the touch, relaxing back down into lotus position from where his legs threatened to wiggle away from him.

Seeing him so calm was a relief. Perhaps Genji had begun to heal. When he saw Hanzo again and was able to deliver the news, it would probably be a relief to him too.

The meditation went on like this for a few hours. The near silent chimes, Genji quiet and still with the monks until he wasn't, Zenyatta either putting a hand on him or squeezing where his hand was already until he relaxed. Slowly, Jesse assumed as slowly as they started up, the chimes faded away again and one by one the monks opened their eyes and unwrapped themselves from their lotus positions. Zenyatta, and then Genji following the monk's gaze, turned his head to where Jesse was standing under the tree.

"Jesse, what brings you here on this lovely day?" Zenyatta asked, although all three of them already knew the answer.

Jesse walked over to the two men, sunlight glinting off of the gold pattern on Zenyatta's shaven head and the metallic bits in Genji's synthetics. "Well I'll be meetin' up with Hanzo soon and I wanted a last update on how you're doin' Genji," Jesse explained to the two men, "By the looks of it, I'm hopin' you're doin' better?"

Genji nodded and smiled, giving a small bow. "I am, thank you for asking, and for your patience."

"It ain't no big deal."

"It is... without you, and without Master Zenyatta, I would not be here right now, and I appreciate the dedication and patience you both have shown."

"Yeah... well..." Jesse wasn't used to receiving thanks like this, and didn't quite know what to do with it. "What do you want me to tell your brother when I see him?"

"That I am doing well here, recovering, and that I plan to stay with the monks."

"Does that mean next time I see you you're gonna have a shaved head?"

"Shaving ones head is not a requirement to just be a pupil of the monastery, fortunately for Genji."

"Master Mondatta still isn't happy I dyed it green again though." Genji added, chuckling.

"We will simply have to continue to remind him that the green is a symbol of new growth."

"Wait wait, you're going to lie to the most powerful monk here? Isn't that gonna get you disbarred or excommunicated or whatever?" Jesse's jaw dropped, almost agog at the ballsy nature the two men were showing. Perhaps leaving Genji here was a terrible idea after all.

"It is not a lie. It is merely re-purposing facts into a truth more easily accepted." Zenyatta replied, and Jesse realized it was not Genji who would be doing all of the corrupting. This was a terrible idea.

But it was too late for Jesse to back out of it now.

"Hold on, lemme go get my camera so I have something to show him." Without waiting for an answer, Jesse dissolved back into shadows, only to return about a minute later, camera in hand. It was an older model, but still took great photographs.

"Say cheese." Jesse instructed, turning it on and holding it up. Genji huddled close to Zenyatta, turning his head ever so slightly to hide the damage to the right side of his face, and flashed the peace sign as he grinned. Zenyatta glanced at Genji and gave a much more subdued smile, eyes closed as he also turned the peace sign to the camera.

Jesse took the picture and turned the camera back off. "Alright gents, it's been a trip, but the trip's over now and so I've got to mosey on along. I'll be back to visit but I dunno when."

"So the same as usual then?" Genji teased lightly.

"Hey, hurtful, I spent almost that whole first year with ya at Angie's." Jesse put his hand over his heart in mock outrage.

"Yes, and how slow those days went." Genji replied, sticking out his tongue as Jesse began to laugh.

"I'm glad you're doin' alright now. But I'll be back. Zen, thanks for doin' such a good job with this one." He jerked a thumb at Genji, who took it as an opportunity to pout himself.

"It was my pleasure. He has a wonderful soul." Zenyatta replied, giving a wave as Jesse disappeared into the shadows again.

\--

"And so then Ana hired you to work at her range and here we are." Jesse told Hanzo, gesturing lightly over his plate with a fork full of noodles, sauce and chunks of chicken.

"That chain of events certainly does sound like Genji..." Hanzo replied, eating his food more demurely. "You will have to visit him again and get another picture with the date so I can ascertain the truthfulness of your tale."

"You wound me darlin'!"

"Demons lie." Hanzo told him, raising a delicate eyebrow and daring Jesse to argue.

He didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This now concludes the back story block and we will return to our regularly scheduled mchanzos


	10. Chapter 10

After hearing the story of his brother, Hanzo didn't have much else to say. As a result, they finished their meals in relative silence and the date wound down. Jesse paid, offering a more than ample tip to their sparkling waitress. She was much too high energy for his tastes, but was kind and didn't draw too much attention to that it was a first date. 

As they waited for the car that would take them back to their respective residences, Hanzo decided that it was nothing he wanted to do again, although it wasn't completely _awful_. The demon was polite, and didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at his third glass of wine or the expense of the dinner. Still cheap by comparison to some of the meals he'd eaten, but expensive compared to the meals he'd eaten _recently_. 

A large part of Hanzo hated that he still had to consider _Olive Garden_ 'fancy'.

They pulled up to the apartment complex that Hanzo had rented a unit in, and he exited, the demon paying and exiting as well, half jogging to catch up to him. A large hand landed on the door he was about to open, and Hanzo spun, eyes meeting the demon's. He was close and grinning and Hanzo knew this was how he died. 

"Yes?" Hanzo asked, and the demon's grin got wider. 

"I had a great time tonight." the demon told him, grin just this side of inhuman, the stretch to his cheeks just a little too wide. 

A shiver skittered down Hanzo's spine, leaving a trial of ice in its wake.

"And?" Hanzo asked, proud that his own voice didn't waver or show anything other than a cool detachment. 

"And I was wonderin'... if maybe I could have a goodnight kiss." He was charming and the grin had softened down to something more handsome. Under normal circumstances Hanzo would be hard pressed to say no. Under normal circumstances Hanzo would have said yes, just because he had asked. 

These were not normal circumstances. 

A harsh laugh bubbled up from Hanzo's throat. "This was not a 'kiss goodnight' kind of date, demon," Hanzo hissed, coldly. "This was me repaying my debt to you. Nothing more. I refuse to give anything more to you under such obligation. You are not to bother me anymore, unless you have updates on my brother. I do not want you flirting or skulking about at my workplace, and I do not want any more offers of physical affection." He stopped here, taking a quiet breath. "And I, for one, will be relieved to not have to look over my shoulder for a tacky and idiotic demon any longer." 

Hanzo watched the demon's face fall before closing off and he tipped the hat on his head as he stepped back. "Understood." All trace of his previous joviality was gone, evaporated like the smoke that trailed from his fingertips. 

Hanzo blinked, and the demon was gone. 

\---

The next day found Hanzo in an odd mood. Part of him was pleased he wouldn't have to be on guard any longer. Still, there was a nagging bit of guilt that said he was far too harsh to someone who did not deserve it. 

Hanzo wasn't going to apologize though. He didn't like the idea of being followed by a demon.

"So how did your date go?" Amélie asked, leaning onto the counter conspiratorially. 

"He took me to the 'nicest restaurant in town', Olive Garden." He deadpanned back. She stared at him, trying to figure out if he was joking or not, before snorting and dissolving into a fit of laughter. Hanzo just folded his arms and waited for her to stop laughing. 

"So will you..." She began, covering her mouth as another fit of laughter threatened to break free. "Will you be seeing him... again?" Her voice cracked on again, and she began laughing once more. 

"No I will not. One date was all he was owed and one date is all he will get." Hanzo snapped, retreating deeper into the range and out of the prying eyes of his coworker and their equally nosy boss. 

After a week had passed, with no sign of the demon around the shop, everybody began to ignore Hanzo's lack of a love life, to his vast appreciation. He was able to do some weapons training of his own, teach a few newbies the basics of gun safety, enjoy reading the occasional magazine in peace as he sipped tea. 

He should have expected it to go to hell. 

He was halfway through one of his shifts that weekend when the door to the main shop slammed open. The bell didn't even really jingle before the door thumped into the wall with a ferocity that seemed to shake the whole building. 

"Gabriel, how nice of you to join us for tea." Ana met his eyes with her one visible one and smiled, though there was very little warmth to it and instead plenty of warning. 

"Cut the shit Amari." The man, Gabriel apparently, snarled. "Where is that little fuck?" 

"Jesse? I am not certain but I could surely find out." Ana sipped her tea calmly, which only seemed to infuriate the dark skinned man in the beanie more. Hanzo swore he saw smoke drip from underneath his clothing. 

Wait. 

Fuck.

This was about that one demon. As if sensing his realization, the other demon's head turned towards him, slow enough to cause him to shiver and have to force himself not to straighten up. 

"It was you wasn't it." Hanzo raised an eyebrow, thanking, for perhaps the only time in his life, the training his family had put him through. 

"What, pray tell, do you think was me?" he questioned, resisting every urge to bolt into the back room and dive out Ana's tiny office window so he could go on the run again. 

"The one Jesse went on a date with." 

Hanzo hummed, as if he went on a lot of dates and had a hard time recalling. "Oh, yes him. Are you his boyfriend or something?" The new demon's face shifted into something resembling shock, then back to rage. 

"What the fuck did you say to him." It wasn't a question. It was an order. Hanzo folded his arms and put on a look of mock nonchalance. 

"I had him tell me of my brother, then informed him that no he may not kiss me and as agreed my debt to him was completed and I did not need to see him skulking around here without any new information on Genji." 

This new demon cursed low in Spanish. Hanzo didn't need to understand the language to know that he was being ripped a new one in that deep voice. A glance out of the corner of his eye showed neither Amélie or Ana looking even slightly worried so... there were two options. Option one: He was going to be fine regardless of how much the larger demon yelled. Option two: They really didn't give a shit and he was gonna be dead within the hour.

The door jangled open and a young woman walked in, one half of her head shaved, the remaining dark brown strands tipped in purple. She pushed right past the angry demon and walked over to Amélie at the counter, grinning. 

"Sombra, what are you doing here." The demon growled, ore a statement than a question as if he expected some sort of nonsense to happen _.  
_

_Great_ , Hanzo thought miserably, _a third demon.  
_

"Hola, papi. ¿Que pasa?" The man growled again, more of an inhuman noise than before, and Hanzo felt the shaved hairs on the back and sides of his neck to stand up straight. 

"Sombra...." The man warned, and the woman huffed at him. 

"What? Is Jesse the only one allowed to have a love life around here? He's kinda failed at that in case you hadn't noticed. Meanwhile I have a lovely and talented girlfriend, and I can't even come visit her?" 

"Olivia..." He heard Amélie say, placing a hand on one of the demon's gloved ones. She immediately lost the theatrics. 

"Fine, fine. Ana, can I take our girl out back for ten?" Ana waved a hand at her before picking a teacup up again. As Amélie led the woman back out of the door, Hanzo saw her take their joined hands and bring it to her lips, placing a purple lipsticked kiss on the back of Amélie's hand. 

"So that explains why he never got anywhere with her..." Hanzo muttered to himself. 

"Are you fucking serious? _That_ is what you get from their whole interaction? No wonder he's so messed up over you. You're just as fucking stupid as he is." The first demon groused, tugging off the black beanie to run his fingers through dark curls. 

"Wait... are you implying that.... the demon who I went on a date with.... actually _liked me_?" Hanzo asked, as if there was a punchline coming. 

"Finally. He gets it. Did you think I was here just because Jesse decided to go on a date for a payment rather than turn you into one of us? Christ. I'm here because you fucking did something and he won't stop staring at the goddamn wall." 

"He asked me on a date as payment. What would you assume was going on?" Hanzo replied, defensive. 

On one hand, how was he supposed to know that that demon actually had feelings for him? On the other.... it _had_ been a nice date...

Fuck. 

He was so screwed. 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Gabriel hadn't stayed much longer after that, asking Ana if Hanzo was always that dense. Ana just asked if Gabriel had talked to Jack lately, as she sipped her tea. The dark skinned demon had left after that.   
  
Knowing that the cowboy demon, Jesse, he reminded himself, actually liked him didn't change much. Hanzo still went to work every day, still did the same things that he always did. Ate the same dinner, drank the same tea, slept at the same time.   
  
The only thing different was now he had a knot in his chest about the demon that apparently liked him.   
  
Did he like Jesse? On one hand, the man... demon... saved Genji. Or allegedly saved Genji. And was allegedly Genji's friend. On the other hand, he knew next to nothing about Jesse. How could he make a decision if he wasn't informed? They could spend time together. Unfortunately more and more days passed without Jesse coming to the range.   
  
"Jesse is not usually gone this long." Amélie remarked, almost a week to the day after the dark skinned demon had threatened him. "At the very least he shows up to ask inane questions. Like 'Amélie,'" the fake southern accent was grating and clashing with the French accent that Amélie usually sported. "'Would you do me the honors of going out to dinner?' Even though he knows I have been in a happy relationship for over a year now." The point of the matter was not lost on Hanzo, and he frowned at her, jaw working as he formulated a response that was not punching her in her quietly smug face.   
  
"You should be thanking me then." He settled with, "Now that he is out of your hair."   
  
"True. But it is boring now, and Sombra keeps complaining about how his moping annoys her so."   
  
"What do you want me to do? Summon him and ask him out?" Hanzo groused, nowhere near serious.   
  
"That would be great actually. I am glad you see it my way." The way Amélie was looking at her nails, made him feel like he had been played. In fact, he was certain of it.   
  
"No." Hanzo fixed her with a glare. "It is not happening." He would not. He wanted his life to settle down. Not fill with demons. Amélie just continued to look at her nails, filing them quietly.   
  
"Suit yourself. Demons often have done something irredeemable anyways. Not that you would know anything about that." Amélie paused in her filing, looking up. "Oh wait. Never mind. My apologies." She continued filing again.   
  
"I hate you." Hanzo growled, retreating back into the range.   
  
Another two days passed before Hanzo was finally able to make up his mind. He would summon Jesse McCree and give him one chance to prove he was worthy. Worthy of what, Hanzo wasn't quite certain. But he'd figure that out.   
  
Two more days before Hanzo could actually say the words. Two nights of pacing in the cool desert just outside the range. Two nights of walking home in defeat. Then on the third day, he managed it, standing in his living room.   
  
A quiet, "Jesse McCree, I summon you." He waited, and.... nothing. A frown settled itself onto his face. "Jesse McCree." He tried again, with more conviction. "I summon you!" Still nothing. He cleared his throat, and tried once more. "Jesse McCree, I -"   
  
"Ya what?" The question came from behind them, the demon's voice extra deep and gravelly, The brim of his hat was pulled down low, shading his eyes from view. A bottle dangled from his fingertips.   
  
"I wanted to talk and I did not know any other way to get your attention. Are you drunk?"   
  
"I didn' wanna talk to you. But ignorin' a summonin' hurts like hell. Even an improper one like yers. An' no. I ain' drunk. I've been drinkin'. There's a difference." The thickness to his accent and the sloshing of the half empty bottle gave Hanzo a reason to doubt him.   
  
"If you truly do not wish to talk to me, then you are free to leave and I will not summon you again." Hanzo told him, waiting for him to go. When Jesse just took a swig out of his bottle, Hanzo gestured to the couch. "If you would like to stay, please have a seat."   
  
Jesse stood still for a moment before stomping over to the couch and sitting heavily on it. Hanzo was irked by the fact that Jesse still had his boots on as it was not polite, but he wisely held his tongue. Instead Hanzo crossed the room to sit on the couch next to him, turned to face him with one leg tucked up under him. His hands stayed clasped on his knees, mouth pressed to a tight line.   
  
"I did have fun the other night." He muttered in a quiet tone, not looking Jesse in the face.   
  
"You sure ain't act like it then."   
  
"I am a difficult man."   
  
"No shit."   
  
"Jesse please." Hanzo nearly stumbled over his name, brain used to calling him 'demon'.  
  
Jesse took a swig of whatever he had brought in the bottle, before staring in Hanzo's direction again. "That might be the first time you've ever said my name when you weren' tryin' to summon me. Poorly I might add." Jesse took another drink and Hanzo swore he heard Jesse mumble "back alley summoning rituals for kids" under his breath.   
  
"Yes well, I have problems relating to people but as Amélie pointed out, we are not so different."   
  
"Psh, we're differenter than rattlesnakes and sharks."

Hanzo resisted the urge to point out that 'differenter' was not a word. Correcting Jesse's grammar was not a good idea. Not right now, anyways. Maybe after they got to know each other more.

"Look. I know that you like me. Your... friend.... made that abundantly clear."

"Which friend? Sombra?"

"No, not her, she finds this whole situation....funny. Your tall angry one."

"Oh no... It was Gabe." Jesse scrubbed at his face with his free hand. "Wasn't it?"

Hanzo thought back, and did recall Ana calling him 'Gabriel'. "Yes that sounds right. He was very quick to jump to your defense. You are lucky to have friends that care about you this much." Hanzo wasn't going to mention that he felt like Gabriel was about to disembowel him with his bare hands.

"Yeah well he shouldn't've. I can handle myself."

"Of course you can. But talking about your friend is not why I called you here tonight."

"No? Could'a fooled me." Hanzo took a breath, knowing Jesse had every reason to be angry.

"Yes, well. I am not a good person. And Amélie pointed out that little fact when I talked to her. So I believe I acted in haste."

"You sayin' you wanna date me?"

"No." _Yes._ "But, if it is possible, I would like to spend more time around you, see if... we could possibly be friends?"

"You ain't worried about what it will _cost_?" Jesse sneered, taking another swig of the alcohol.

"No, I am not. Frankly, if you wanted my soul, you'd have asked for it already." Hanzo replied. Truthfully he was worried, if only in the back of his mind, that Jesse would want to make him give up his humanity. But in the meantime, he could attempt to be friends with him.

"I dunno if I'm ready to be friends with someone that only thinks o' me as a degenerate demon."

Hanzo swallowed, wondering how Jesse could peg that, even while drunk. "Well, that is your choice. If you would like to leave, you are free to do so."

"I would, and I am. But I ain't need your permission to do it. You hadn't done nothin' to trap me here. I coulda gone _whenever_."

Hanzo watched him fade back into the shadows, until he was gone. It was really quite disconcerting.

The next day at the range it was his turn to be in a sour mood. Sombra sat on the counter, fiddling with a tablet, while Amélie took the morning inventory, double checking the numbers from the night before.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Sombra announced when he walked in, a sly grin on her face. "Apologizing to Jesse didn't go as planned did it?"

"I do not know what you are talking about." Hanzo told her, walking down the hall to double check that the range didn't suddenly get dirty overnight.

Amélie followed him twenty minutes later. "You honestly apologized?"

"Yes."

"You actually said 'I am sorry'?" An eyebrow was raised in his direction, arms folded across her chest. She had changed her nail polish from her usual dark blue-purple to a lighter violet, much closer to Sombra's shade. It was so _domestic_ that Hanzo felt an ache in his chest.

"I said something along the lines."

"And?"

"He was drunk."

"Unsurprising."   
  
"Amélie," Ana had appeared behind her, without making a sound. Amélie didn't jump, but it was a close thing.

"Yes, Ana?"

"You are about to have a customer, perhaps you should stop bothering Hanzo and return to the front." There was a knowing smile on her lips.

"We shall talk later, Hanzo." Talking tended to mean drinking, but he was okay with that. Ana fixed that knowing smile on Hanzo, and patted him on the shoulder before leaving.

He wasn't sure where the dread came from, but suddenly it had knotted up the pit of his stomach.


End file.
